


Special Delivery

by supercasey



Series: Team Fortress 2 One-Shots [2]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Adopted Children, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Adoption, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Kids, Canon Non-Binary Character, Car Accidents, Dysfunctional Family, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Family Bonding, Father-Son Relationship, Found Family, Kid!Scout AU, Kidnapping, Mercenaries, Near Death, Near Death Experiences, Non-Binary Pyro, Team as Family, War, only kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:33:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23694715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supercasey/pseuds/supercasey
Summary: TF2 Kid!Scout AU. When all of RED is woken up at the ass-crack of dawn by an ear-splitting screech of metal on metal, they’re treated to a very shocking sight; an RV that’s back-end is on fire wedged into the garage door- or rather, what’s left of it- with hardly any reason for being there. If that weren’t worrying enough, the team pulls out three children from the rubble, without a single adult in sight. Where did these kids come from? Where are their parents? Do they even HAVE parents? Either way, it's not safe to take the kids to the police, and with no one on the team willing to smother three kids... congratulations, RED team, you're ALL parents now!
Relationships: Scout's Mother/Spy (Team Fortress 2)
Series: Team Fortress 2 One-Shots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1689592
Comments: 30
Kudos: 102





	1. Overnight Shipping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reread and edited by Author on May 30th, 2020.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I oughta write how Scout snuck into RED with Spy for this AU first, but… some origin stories just aren’t that fun for me to write, so I’m skipping Scout and Spy’s introduction to write later and instead I’m introducing my other favs! Btw, I have indeed heard the news of what happened to Soldier’s VA, and although I haven’t been into TF2 for very long, the news gutted me like a fish… rest in peace, sir, your amazing voice acting for Soldier was one of the many things that got me interested in this series, and you will never be forgotten.

Despite not having as violent an upbringing as one might assume, Spy has always been a light sleeper. From an early age, the smallest bumps in the night would wake him up, prompting him to lose far too much sleep than a child ever should. As he grew older, this ailment only intensified, and nowadays, what with balancing the lives of a loving father and a primadonna assassin, Spy counts himself lucky if he gets as many as four hours a night, though he usually gets even fewer. So needless to say, when the Frenchman is abruptly woken up after only getting about an hour of rest at most, he’s less than pleased about it. Not that he has the capacity to be anything but frightened at first, as the noise that woke Spy is ear-splittingly loud and unpleasant, sounding akin to a bomb going off. He throws himself to his feet in a panic, his instincts telling him to be alert, keep his young safe, and find out what the _fuck_ is trying to kill him. After a few seconds of standing upright, Spy shakes his head vigorously, confused and disoriented as he tries to figure out if he’s just having a weirdly vivid dream or not. He isn’t given long to wonder, as before he can even get some more clothes on, his bedroom door is being flung open with the force of a cougar mauling a park ranger.

“Papa!” Scout shouts, the seven-year-old still clad in his baseball themed pajamas, his stuffed crab- lovingly named _Monsieur Crab_ when he was toddler- held protectively in his arms. “Papa, did ya hear that!? It sounded like an _explosion!”_

Spy nods, kicking on his slippers while simultaneously pocketing his butterfly knife. “Oui, I heard it, mon fils… wake ze laborer, tell him zat someone has gotten into ze base, and zen stay with him in his bedroom, understand? Whatever made zat noise cannot possibly be harmless, and I don’t want you getting hurt by it.”

“But Engie’s already checkin’ on it in da garage, 'n he told me ta come stay with ya,” Scout explains, appearing nervous as he fumbles with his stuffed animal, his eyes full of fear. “Papa, can I come with ya? _Please?_ I’m scared dat whatever’s in the garage is gonna find me, if you’re not around ta scare ‘em off.”

Spy bites back a sigh, tempted to tell Scout to lock himself in here and hide under the bed until he gets back, but… well, he remembers being as young and afraid as him, back when France was still afraid of being bombed in the middle of the night, and he can’t deny his son his protection when he asks for it. “Very well, Jeremy… but stay close to Papa.” He orders, and just to make sure the order is followed to his standards, he picks the little boy up, having him ride on his back, the child’s arms wrapped securely around his neck to keep him upright and secure.

Scout doesn’t respond verbally, choosing instead to press his face into the back of his father’s nightshirt, which only goes to increase Spy’s anxiety. Despite working as a high profile killer for hire, and having a little over a decade of experience under his belt, the Frenchman can’t resist shivering at the thought of his typically talkative son being frightened into silence. Resisting his urge to run and stow his son somewhere safer than on his back, Spy tiptoes around the base with all the quiet gracefulness of a ballerina, ducking around corners and checking under tables as if he knows this place like the back of his hand, but unfortunately he doesn’t, as he and Scout have only been here for about three weeks now. Soon enough, Spy finds the rest of his team, both Medic and Heavy wide awake in the common room leading to the garage, where the loud sound from earlier emitted from, if Scout’s frantic rambling from earlier is anything to go off of. As Spy approaches, he readjusts his hold on the boy, carrying Scout like one would a toddler, one arm supporting his backside, the other acting as a seatbelt across the child’s back to keep him from losing his balance and falling to the floor.

Medic relaxes a fraction when he sees Spy and Scout, though he still looks uncharacteristically unnerved for a man of his stature. “And here I vas vorried zat you and ze little one vere trapped in zere… ze Administrator vould hafe been _furious.”_

“What’s going on in zere?” Spy asks, having no time for Medic’s sadistic sense of humor. “Are we under attack? Has our base been compromised?” He prays it hasn’t, because although he hates to admit it, Spy knows that he wouldn’t be able to keep his son safe from BLU without his teammates around to help.

“Nein, nozink like zat…” Medic assures, waving off Spy’s fears like he’s about to perform a standard operation. “It seems someone has crashed zeir fehicle into our garage… Engie and Demoman are tryink to find survivors as ve speak!”

“I see…” Spy murmurs, finally setting Scout down, now that the situation seems less threatening than it did beforehand. “How on _earth_ did someone crash into _our_ garage of all places? Are we not in a secluded canyon for zis very reason?”

“Must find that out soon,” Heavy says, before giving Scout a small smile, as he likely feels bad for the little boy. “Why not go in bed, little one? No need for child being up so late, especially for bad times.”

“But I wanna know what happened!” Scout whines, holding onto Spy’s pants leg as he stares up at Heavy with pleading eyes. “Are Engie 'n Demo gonna be okay? I _gotta_ know!”

Heavy chuckles, shaking his head at Scout’s behavior. “Such curious child… why not spend time with Heavy, yes? Shall even let you pet Sasha, so long as child is very careful, and washes hands _very_ thoroughly before giving pets.”

Scout perks up at that, as he typically isn’t allowed anywhere _near_ the mercenary’s weapons, _especially_ not Heavy’s minigun. _“Really?_ You’ll lemme pet her?” He asks as if he’s being allowed to pet a cat or dog and not an actual fucking _gun._

Heavy nods, sending Spy a small wink for good measure. “Of course, little one… come, may ride on Heavy’s shoulder,” He comes and scoops the seven-year-old up, just _one_ of his ginormous hands able to wrap around Scout's entire torso, and with all of the tenderness the mercenary can muster, Heavy sets Scout on his right shoulder, allowing the boy to tower over everyone else in the room. “Come along, little Scout.” He says, making his way towards the double doors leading back into the rest of the base.

“Okay, Mr. Heavy. Bye, Papa! Promise to tell me what happened?” Scout requests, giggling as he rides on Heavy’s shoulder, making sure to keep a tight hold on Monsieur Crab, lest he accidentally drop the stuffed animal.

“Of course, mon fils,” Spy says, giving the boy an easy-going smile. Before Heavy can leave the room, the Frenchman stops him, leaning over to whisper into his ear. “Please try to get him to sleep for me; no need for him to see anyzing unpleasant tonight.”

Heavy smiles and nods, before continuing with Scout and Monsieur Crab to the locker room. It’s only after his son has left the room that Spy let’s out a long sigh, feeling far too exhausted for any of this nonsense. Medic has the gall to chuckle at him, amused by the other mercenary’s predicament. “It must be quite difficult, dealink vith both a small Kind and a var… I vould not vish zat on my vorst enemy, much less meine own covorker.”

“Shut up.” Spy growls, taking out a cigarette and lighting it, if only so he can quickly take a few puffs to cope with this bullshit.

Unfortunately, the mercenary isn’t given all that long to smoke, as after only about three minutes of relative peace, there’s a loud banging on the door leading to the garage. Medic runs to get it open, allowing a soot covered Demoman and Engineer to come tumbling out from the other side, both men coughing like mad as they struggle to get ahold of themselves. It’s obvious why they’re so out of breath, as the minute the door’s open, smoke clouds that are much darker and bigger than the ones coming from Spy’s cigarette come barreling into the room, though to everyone’s relief, it isn’t spreading nearly as fast as one might fear. With a toss of his cigarette after putting it out- no need to start _another_ fire- Spy steps closer to inspect the damage, watching from a healthy distance as Medic leads Demoman and Engineer to some stools off to the side, having the men sit down and just breathe, as there isn’t a lot he can do for them without taking them all the way across base to the infirmary. They both recover rather quickly, on account of Engineer dealing with his inventions blowing up in his face a lot and Demoman literally making and detonating _bombs_ for a living, so Spy doesn’t have to wait long for an explanation.

“It’s an RV,” Engineer chokes out between labored coughs, his eyes squeezed shut beneath his goggles. “Front end is stuck in da garage door, prolly won’t even _budge_ widout usin’ some heavy equipment on it… haven’t gotten inside yet, seein’ as the damn door is jammed, so I’mma need some help wid that.”

“It’s a bloody _wreck_ in dere,” Demoman states, shaking his head in disbelief. “Can’t imagine dat whatever sorry bastard was drivin’ ‘er is still kickin’… ey, spook,” He points his question at Spy, raising an eyebrow at him, though the effect is lost on account of him only having one eye visible. “Yer little one still in bed? He really oughta not see dis sorta shite.”

“He’s with Heavy,” Spy explains, secretly taking issue with Demoman trying to tell him how to raise his kid. “Do not zink me so foolish as to bring a child to a bloodbath.”

“And yet you brought him out here to begin vith,” Medic chimes in, a wiry little smirk on his face. When he gets a furious glare from Spy for his trouble, he chuckles outright, having no sense of self-preservation… that, or he just doesn’t fear the other man. “Forgife me, I couldn’t help but make ze joke… my bad.”

“This ain’t no time for jokin’ around, Doc,” Engineer says, thankfully stopping the fight before it can get started. “Right now, we oughta work together ta get inta that RV ‘n see what’s left ‘a the place… anybody call da boss yet? Doubt she’s gonna be too pleased when she hears ‘bout dis.”

“I’fe tried, but all of our radios are _dead,”_ Medic explains, quickly jumping back into action. “If I had to guess, I vould zink zat so-called ‘R-V’ took a power-line down on it’s vay in.”

Engineer nods, though he doesn’t look the least bit happy about it. “'Fraid you might be right, partner… alrighty den, you ready ta get back in dere, Demo?” He asks, patting Demoman on the back to get his attention.

This gets a few more coughs out of the bomb expert, who scowls at Engineer for the trouble. “Aye.” Demoman agrees, sighing as he stands up and readjusts his pants, his expression suggesting he isn’t excited to go back into the garage so soon.

“I’ll come with you.” Spy offers, secretly glad to have the chance to be involved, if only so he can see exactly what’s going on in there.

Now, it’s not that Spy doesn’t _trust_ his teammates… okay, that’s definitely part of it, but that’s not the _only_ reason he feels the need to see rather than hear about what’s happening. Like it or not, Spy knows he’s surrounded by some rather… _foolish_ individuals, most of which have never worked such a high profile job in their entire lives. Sure, mercenaries like Medic and Engineer definitely have the brains to keep up with Spy, but they don’t have the same amount of experience that he does, despite them both being at least a few years older than the Frenchman. If Spy has _any_ chance at sleeping again tonight, he needs to know _exactly_ what’s going on in that damn garage, and despite Engineer and Medic’s insistence that it’s nothing dangerous… well, a whole ass RV crashing into the garage can’t _possibly_ be benign, and Spy won’t rest until he’s seen this mess with his own two eyes. He can only hope that Engineer won’t turn down his offer to help, as even without the repairman’s permission, he intends on getting in that garage and checking the crime scene out. After a moment of silence, to the taller man’s relief, Engineer gives him a small nod, as well as a rather grateful smile, the southerner likely assuming that Spy is doing this out of selflessness.

“That’d be mighty helpful, spook,” Engineer says, before glancing at Medic. “You gonna come in dere too, Doc?”

“Oh heafens no,” Medic shakes his head in earnest, hands held up as if to protect himself. “I am much better off vaitink here on standby, just in case someone is in need of medical treatment.”

“Pussy,” Demoman comments, laughing when Medic sneers at him. “What? I’m right, ‘n ya bloody well know it!”

Medic just rolls his eyes, entirely unimpressed as he hurries off to the infirmary, likely to get it ready for any incoming bodies. With the doctor gone, the rest of the team heads into the garage, Engineer and Demoman leading the way inside with Spy right on their heels. The _minute_ they step inside, the Frenchman is forced to pull his nightshirt up enough to cover his mouth, using it as a makeshift mask to block out the incoming smoke. As expected, the RV is still very much on fire, though it seems to be coming from the back-end of the van, making it so that most of the smoke is going outside and not into the garage. On one hand, Spy is glad that he and his teammates are at less risk of suffocating, but on the other hand, he doesn’t like the idea of a huge fire drawing attention to RED base. Pushing that thought aside to worry about later, he continues further into the garage, following the others to the right hand side of the RV, where the only door leading inside seems to be welded shut from the crash. Now with the power of three men on their side, Spy, Engineer, and Demoman begin yanking on the door, having to take deep breaths between combined pulls. After a minute or so of this, a loud, metal shriek fills the air, and just like that, the door is ripped off it’s hinges.

Spy and Engineer get out of the way just in time, but unfortunately for Demoman, he keeps holding onto the door, so he falls backwards with it once the latch breaks, collapsing right into one of Engineer’s worktables, sending nuts and bolts flying into the air. “Fuckin’ _hell!”_ Demoman shouts, voice loud as thunder as he screams in both pain and surprise.

“Aw _fiddlesticks,”_ Engineer grumbles, grimacing at the state Demoman is now in. “Spy, how ‘bout I stay ‘ere ‘n make sure Demo ain’t got any nails in ‘im, alright? Jus’ shout if ya find somethin’ 'r need help.”

“Got it.” Spy says, leaving the others to sort themselves out while he goes inside of the still burning vehicle.

Out of both habit and paranoia, Spy has one hand on his knife as he climbs the short staircase leading into the RV, the other raised in a fist as he looks around. It’s difficult to see much through the smoke, but what he _does_ find sends an unwelcome chill down the man’s spine. The inside of the van is in total disarray, with the roof partially caved in, and miscellaneous items strewn all over the place. From underneath what looks to be a sheet of metal from the roof of the RV, Spy sees what looks to be a small body, with another one lying only a few feet away from Spy’s slippers, the sight making him feel ill as he realizes that the bodies are those of _children._ He can’t tell how old they are- or rather, _were-_ but they couldn’t have been over thirteen, if either of them are even that old. Even _more_ troubling is the lack of any adults in this mess, as while Spy scopes out the RV, he can’t find anyone else in the debris. Suddenly, it occurs to him that one of the children, who’s wearing what looks to be a brown vest over a red t-shirt, is lying face-down towards the back of the vehicle, suggesting he was the driver. That explains why the car crashed to begin with, if a damn _kid_ was driving it… but how did they _get here?_ Who _are_ they? Where did they _come from?_

As Spy steps closer, he hears a series of loud coughs, causing him to freeze in his tracks. Holy shit… did one of them actually _survive_ the crash? Kneeling down, the man rolls the kid in the vest onto his back, and sure enough, the boy keeps coughing, eyes squeezed shut from the pain. “Oh mon _Dieu…”_ Spy murmurs, eyes wide with surprise. “I can hardly believe it… one _survived!”_

The kid gives another loud cough, which kicks the Frenchman into action. Not even hesitating, he scoops the boy up, hauling him over his shoulder before exiting the van. When he steps back out, Engineer has gotten Demoman to his feet, helping to dust the Scotsman off. The minute he sees Spy though, he freezes, his expression one of horror. “Oh my _stars…_ is he-”

“-He’s alive. _Somehow,”_ Spy assures, letting out a slight groan at the weight. “Help me with him.” It’s not often he asks for help, but he’ll make an exception just this once.

Engineer doesn’t even hesitate, both he and Demoman taking the boy from Spy, the two men staring at the kid with such confusion in their eyes, it would be funny if the situation weren’t so dire. “Shite man, what on earth _happened_ to ‘im?” Demoman asks, looking the child over, even going so far as to hold the kid's wrist to check for a pulse.

“A car crash, but I’m certain zeir is more to ze story zen just zis,” Spy says, already stepping back towards the RV to grab the other kid. “Be prepared for more.” He orders, making sure to leave the order somewhat vague, just in case there are more than two children involved here.

Spy is much quicker this time grabbing the second one, as he doesn’t want to risk them dying of suffocation, but to his frustration, the kid is stuck underneath a large sheet of metal, having gotten caught under the cave-in. Amazingly enough, when Spy’s ungloved hand gets close to their mouth, he can feel them shakily breathing, meaning they _also_ survived the crash, just like the first one did. With all of his strength, Spy works to move the metal off of them, silently regretting not getting Demoman or Engineer to come inside with him… hell, he regrets leaving _Heavy_ of all mercs to babysit Scout, or else this would be a piece of cake! At the thought of his young son, Spy feels nauseous, easily able to imagine his young in this child’s position, weak and helpless, close to death as they wait for an adult to swoop in and rescue them. With renewed vigor, Spy clenches his teeth and pulls, pulls, _pulls…_ only to fall on his ass, the metal just too heavy for him to lift up. Were he as young as the kid he’s trying to save, he would more than likely cry out of guilt, but the Frenchman has no time to throw a juvenile hissy fit. Spy takes a deep breath, readying himself before he stands up, grabs the metal sheet, and tries again, grunting with pain as he overexerts himself.

“Come on, maggot! Put your back into it!” A voice shouts, unfamiliar and young.

Spy _jolts,_ just managing to not lose his grip as he looks to his left, and from seemingly _nowhere,_ he sees a young boy- looking to be around eleven or twelve, if he had to guess- standing right next to him, the kid trying to move the metal sheet alongside him. “Quit gawkin’ and keep pullin’!” The kid screams, snapping Spy out of his confused stupor.

“Who ze fuck are _you!?”_ Spy asks, flabbergasted by the boy’s very presence. Offhandedly, he notices that the kid is pretty bloodied up, with a sizable gash on his cheek, and blood running down his face from underneath the oversized army helmet on his head.

“Private John Jane Doe, reporting for duty!” The boy- _John,_ apparently- frees one hand to salute at Spy, before returning to his attempt at lifting the piece of roof. “Now stop lollygaggin’ and help me save ‘em!”

Spy simply nods, not bothering to ask anymore questions, as with John’s help, he finally manages to fold the metal sheet back, successfully freeing the child underneath. Unfortunately for him, the kid is still unresponsive, remaining unconscious even though they’ve been rescued. _This_ Spy can handle _much_ easier, the man scooping the child up in his arms, this one a tad shorter than the last survivor. With John following close behind him, Spy exits the van, coughing vigorously as he escapes the smoke-filled vehicle, his eyes burning from overexposure. The only conscious kid remains that way, thank god, simply looking around curiously as he follows the Frenchman, one hand resting by his side, the other curled around the knocked out kid’s left hand, suggesting he’s protective of them. Once outside, Spy discovers that Medic has come back with a stretcher, he and Engineer working together to very carefully lie the first survivor on it, all while Demoman watches from the sidelines, the Scotsman quietly downing some bourbon as he watches this all go down. Usually Spy is sickened by Demoman’s apparent alcoholism, but to be honest, he’d rather be drunk right now, too.

Demoman looks over at Spy when he hears his footfalls, his single eye widening as he spits out the alcohol that was in his mouth, getting it all over the floor in the process. “Shite, dere’s _more_ 'a da lil’ buggers!” He exclaims, surprised by the new survivors. _“Two_ fuckin’ more!? Bloody hell, did we get a damn _school bus_ in ‘ere!?”

Spy rolls his eyes, before glancing down at John, raising a single eyebrow at the boy from beneath his mask. “Was anyone else on-board zat RV with you?” He asks the kid, seeing as he’s the only one available to give answers right now.

“Negative, sir!” John says, giving Spy yet another salute; the Frenchman has a feeling that military worship is going to be a common theme with this kid. “Only myself, Private Bonnie, and Private Mundy were aboard this vehicle when it crashed!”

“I see,” Spy murmurs, giving Demoman a halfhearted shrug. “It seems zere were no adults involved after all…” He then sighs, feeling uneasy as he glances at John again. “So… where are your parents, young man? Where are _any_ of your parents, for zat manner? Are you related to zese ozer children?”

“That’s classified information, _maggot!”_ John snaps, suddenly defensive as he backs away from Spy, his fists at the ready in case the older man tries to attack him. “What are ya, a _commie!?_ I won’t let you brainwash me with your socialism and your propaganda!”

“…Right,” Medic says, simply staring at John like he’s sprouted a second head. “I vill _definitely_ be checkink zat one for brain damage.”

“Zat would be wonderful, doctor.” Spy mutters, ignoring John for the time being as he brings the unconscious child in his arms over to Medic and Engineer. With the children being so young, there’s enough room for him to lay them both down on the same stretcher; he can’t figure out if he should feel disturbed or relieved by this fact, so he settles on feeling nothing instead.

As Spy does this, John growls, bearing his teeth at the adults like a rabid raccoon. “Just _what_ do you think you’re doing with my brother and sibling in arms, commie!?” He asks, getting more aggressive now that his companions are out of the RV. “I swear, if you hurt _either_ of ‘em, I’ll tear you apart ‘n feed ya to the troops for breakfast!”

“I hope dey like frogs.” Demoman says, bursting into uproarious laughter at his own joke.

The jab goes right over John’s head, giving Engineer a chance to step in. “You in da military, lil’ buddy?” He asks, trying to simultaneously appeal to John’s obvious love of the army as well as check on the kid.

“Of course I am!” John snaps, giving yet another fucking salute, this time standing at parade rest afterwards. “Private John Jane Doe reporting for duty, and ready to kick some communist ass!”

There’s a short silence, as everyone else exchanges nervous looks, unsure of what to do about this kid. “Zat one is much more violent zen I expected him to be,” Spy whispers to the other mercenaries, giving the boy in question an uneasy look. “I have never seen such an unruly child in my life… save of course for mon fils, but at least _he_ makes _sense!_ Until we know more, I suggest we simply play along, lest zis _John_ character lash out at us.”

“I reckon yer right, spook,” Engineer agrees, before standing up and grinning at John, easily able to hide how he really feels about the odd boy. “Well, Private Doe, I’m awful glad yer ‘ere! You just so happened ta drive right into a military base, ‘n we’ve been expectin’ ya!”

John seems to be surprised at first, if his body language is anything to go off of; more than ever, Spy wishes he could see this kid’s eyes, if only to better read his visual cues. “I _have?_ Which base is this, officer?” John asks, relaxing right away, now that he thinks he’s with the army.

“Um, we’re Fort… _uh,”_ Engineer is caught off-guard, nervous as he tries to come up with something on the spot. “We’re Fort-”

“-Fort _RED!”_ Demoman cheers, jumping up and giving a sloppy version of John’s own salute to the prepubescent boy, the Scotsman clearly drunk off his ass by now. “‘N we’re da best damn soldiers in all da country, yes siree!”

“Fort _Red?_ Why haven’t I heard of this military base before?” John asks, growing suspicious as he sneers beneath his helmet at Demoman.

“‘Cus we’re so _bloody_ important, _dat’s_ why!” Demoman explains, sauntering right on over to John. He has to crouch down to be at the child's eye level, coming to sling an arm across the kid’s shoulders like they’re close friends. “We’re a very _special_ base, ‘n we only have da best ‘a the best ‘ere! ‘N guess what, laddie? You’re one ‘a da _best_ soldiers we got!”

“Really?” John lights up like a Christmas tree, a huge grin overtaking the bottom half of his face. “I _told_ Mundy we were drivin’ in the right direction! Yes, yes, _yes!_ We _made it!”_ He starts jumping up and down, childish excitement overriding his more militant persona.

Demoman grins as well, sending the rest of the mercs an obvious wink, not that John seems to notice. “Now dat you’re ‘ere, we oughta get ya checked by our medic, aye? Can’t have any communist diseases on ya, now can we?”

John gasps in horror, a hand over his heart as he freezes in place. “Dear _god,_ I could be _infected!”_ He bellows, terrified at the thought.

“Den we haven’t a moment ta lose, me boy!” Demoman says, and with the child having come to trust him, he picks John up and hauls the boy onto his shoulders. He struggles a little under the kid’s weight, but he laughs it off in no time, running with the boy towards the infirmary. However, he pauses by Medic, crouching down to whisper something to him so John won’t overhear them. “I’ll keep da lad busy for a spell while ya deal wid da other ones… I’ll see if I can get ‘im ta sleep any.” With that, he’s off and running again, John laughing the whole way, until he can't be heard anymore.

The other men watch Demoman take off like a bat out of hell, none of them sure how to react just yet. “Well dat was… _interestin’,”_ Engineer mutters, tipping his hat up in disbelief. “Seems Demo’s better wid kids den I gave ‘im credit for.”

“Zank god for hidden talents,” Medic says, eyes transfixed on the two kids on his stretcher, his eyebrows furrowing. “Hm… _zat’s_ peculiar.”

“What’s wrong, doctor?” Spy asks, concerned by the other man’s comment. “Are zey still breathing?” As if to check for himself, he lays two fingers on one of the kid’s necks, checking for a pulse.

Medic smacks his hand away almost immediately, not wanting him underfoot. “Zey are alife, ja, _but…”_ He trails off, unable to keep from scratching his head in deep thought. “I can hardly beliefe zey _are… s_ uch a crash vould hafe _killed_ a grown man, much less zree Kinder.”

Engineer shrugs halfheartedly, more optimistic than his coworkers. “Guess fate ain’t as fickle as we thought… ain’t everyday we get a miracle.”

“Zere is not such zink,” Medic says, all while pulling on a new pair of gloves. “Vould one of you please help me brink zem to ze infirmary? I must tend to zeir vounds at once.”

“I reckon I oughta stay 'ere, maybe clean up dis mess…” Engineer offers, wincing as he glances back at the still burning RV… seriously, how has it not blown up by now? “Christ, I might need Heavy’s help gettin’ it outside, ‘fore it blows another gasket ‘n the Administrator gives us even _more_ hell for dis. Spy, ya think ya can help Medic out for me?”

Spy simply nods, taking initiative by grabbing one end of the stretcher, and with Medic’s help, the duo pick up the two children and begin walking them inside, careful when going through doorways, the more stealthy of the two relieved that they don’t have to use any stairs along the way. Halfway across base, they pass by the primary locker room, where the doors are wide open. Spy glances inside on his way through, spotting Heavy and Scout inside, the Russian being sure to keep Scout’s eyes on his minigun the entire time, as he doesn’t want the kid looking over his shoulder and seeing what’s going on outside the room. Spy can’t help but smirk when he sees his son, able to hear the boy giggle as Heavy explains to him how Sasha is cleaned, and how she operates on the battlefield, thankful that the team’s tank gives a less graphic explanation than he usually does to his teammates. Soon enough, Spy and Medic make it to the infirmary, where they’re immediately greeted by the sight of not only John, but also Demoman unconscious on one of the room’s many empty beds, the older of the two on his back and snoring up a storm while the younger lies on top of him, John unknowingly clinging to the Scotsman’s shirt in his sleep, his own snores quieter and less drawn out.

Medic chuckles at the sight. “Like baby like sitter,” He comments, finding the sight rather amusing. He’s back to business in no time though, attempting to give Spy instructions. “Lay ze stretcher on ze table, and ve’ll gife zem zeir own beds… I shall see to zis one first.” He gestures to the first kid Spy saved, the one wearing a vest over his shirt.

“Got it.” Spy murmurs, gently picking up the other child for the second time tonight, quick to lay them on the empty bed that’s closest to the other unconscious kid. Once the little one is settled, the Frenchman can’t help but sigh, feeling overwhelmingly tired as the adrenaline begins to finally wear off.

Medic, as observant as ever, gives Spy a slight smile. “You know, I am perfectly capable of tendink to zese patients alone, Shpy… I suggest you rest, as tomorrow vill no doubt be quite busy. And loud, especially once ze Administrator gets here.”

Spy groans at the very thought, slightly more lax around Medic, if only because he knows the doctor to be a… _reliable_ teammate, at least compared to the likes of Demoman and Heavy. “If you insist,” He says, acting as though Medic is forcing him to call it quits for the night. “Call me if anyzing changes.” He adds, before hurrying out the door, lest Medic try teasing him for being concerned for kids that aren’t even his.

As he exits the infirmary, Spy is immediately greeted by an overly excited Scout. “Papa!” The boy shouts, running at his father and hugging his legs once he’s within reach.

Spy bites back the urge to scold the boy for not asking first, scooping Scout up as Heavy rounds the corner, the other man appearing out of breath. “Apologies, Spy… boy is too fast.” He explains, panting like a dog.

“Papa, is it true?” Scout asks, practically bouncing in Spy’s arms. “Did ya really find a kid in da garage?”

“Who told you zis?” Spy questions, sending Heavy a glare that promises an excruciating and drawn out death if this is his doing. “Was it you?” He asks, practically _daring_ the man to confess.

“It was _Demo,_ Papa!” Scout explains, having no trouble with tattling on the Scotsman. “He was tellin’ dat other kid ‘bout soldiers ‘r somethin’ when he came inside, but Heavy wouldn’t lemme follow ‘im, 'cus he said dat other kid is real hurt, so I can’t talk to ‘im right now… so is it _true,_ Papa? Is it?”

Spy sighs, tempted to lie, but his son is almost as good at reading lies as he is… curse his amazing genetics. “Yes, you are quite close to being correct, mon fils,” He says, adjusting his hold on Scout so he doesn’t drop the kid. “We found zree children in ze wreckage, but all zree of zem have been badly injured, so we must let zem rest, understand?”

“Oh, okay,” Scout takes that well enough, seeing as it’s coming from his dad and all. Turning to look over his shoulder at Heavy, he waves to the ginormous man. “Goodnight, Heavy! Thanks again for lettin’ me pet Sasha; I hope she liked it!”

Heavy chuckles, amused by Scout’s childish innocence. “She likes petting very much, little one… is nice thing, to be given comfort and love,” He says it so _sadly_ out of _nowhere,_ Spy has a sneaking suspicion that the Russian was missing at least _one_ parent from his childhood, if not both. “Goodnight to you, little one. Be good to Papa.” With that, Heavy slinks back towards his bedroom, a loud yawn sounding from him as he leaves.

Scout yawns in turn, rubbing at his eyes. “‘M so _tired,_ Papa,” He whines, unable to keep from laying his head on his father’s shoulder to rest. “Do you think those other kids ‘re gonna wanna play tomorrow? ‘R the day after dat? I bet they’re a _lot_ ‘a fun.”

“Perhaps,” Spy whispers, keeping his voice down in an attempt to help lull his son to sleep. “But you _must_ understand, once zey are better, zey shall probably not stay with us for very long…”

“Oh,” Scout sounds so disappointed, clutching Monsieur Crab a little tighter, as if trying to keep him from going away as well. “Are ya _sure,_ Papa? Can’t dey stay here like I do? I know ya told me it ain’t really safe here, but… I hope dey can stay ‘n be my friends.” With that, he’s quick to fall asleep, too tired to stay awake and keep talking.

Spy sighs in defeat, feeling guilty yet again for his son being stuck out here with him, trapped in a war-zone without so much as a companion his own age to play with. Sure, there’s Emily Pauling, the Administrator’s adoptive daughter, but she’s only visited once or twice since they got here, and the Administrator doesn’t seem comfortable with her and Scout becoming friends… and really, it’s pretty shitty of her to keep her kid from having a friend her age, but it’s not like Spy can do much to stop her. Deep down, he feels terrible for Scout, even though it’s technically the boy’s own fault that he’s stuck here- _not that he knew he was going to be taken by his dad on accident, after falling asleep in Spy’s duffel bag; he just wanted his papa to stay home with him, not drag him out to a battlefield miles away from his mama and brothers-_ as he’s never lived without peers before, having grown up his whole life with several older brothers under the same roof as him. Sure, they’re all bigger and stronger than Scout, and sometimes a bit too mean to him, but they’re his _family,_ and they all love and care about each other more than most brothers do. To suddenly _lose_ those links, and be thrust into a strange new place, with only his father to lean on… Spy can’t even _imagine_ such a horrible fate for _himself,_ much less his own son.

He’ll try to make it up to Scout after the other kids leave, maybe find a way to sneak him to Teufort for some ice cream or something… for now though, Spy will do his best to comfort his child, and quietly pray that someway, somehow, he can make their situation just a little bit better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahaha, poor Spy, you have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into, do you? In any case, I hope y’all enjoyed this chapter, and I hope you’ll leave a comment if you did, ‘cus it would really make my day! Have an awesome day, y’all, and thanks for reading! Okay, time for my complimentary infodump:
> 
> 1\. That line in the beginning about Spy trying be both a “loving father and a primadonna assassin” at the same time is a very stupid reference to one of my favorite Eminem songs “Lose Yourself”, and if I had less self-control, I’d put it on a Spy playlist.
> 
> 2\. If you read my other fic “Jeremy” then you might remember Scout’s childhood stuffie, a plush crab, though I didn’t mention the stuffie’s name in that fic! His name is Monsieur Crab, even in “Jeremy”, where Scout wasn’t raised by Spy. As I said in a Tumblr post of TF headcanons (feel free to ask for a link if you wanna see ‘em all), I headcanon that Scout learned French from infancy thanks to his Ma teaching it to him, as she wanted him to have that connection to his dad, even though he wasn’t around anymore. In this AU, Scout uses French more often, especially around his dad!
> 
> 3\. I’d like to formally apologize for the Visual Garbage that is me trying to write Medic’s speaking lines, but it’s really hard to write him when all that’s replaced is z=th and v=w (it makes him sound too much like Spy, in my opinion)… so yeah, I replaced a lot of s’s with z’s, and I lowkey regret it, so if anyone has advice for writing Medic’s speech better, feel free to lemme know in the comments please! ((Hey, look, I finally went back and fixed this; shout out to everyone who now never has to know just how badly I wrote Medic!))
> 
> 4\. Can you tell that I’ve never written for Soldier and Demoman before yet? Sorry if they seem OOC in this fic/AU, but seeing as Soldier’s a kid in this, and I want Demoman to be like an awesome uncle to the kids/eventual dad to Soldier… eh, I think it’ll be fine.
> 
> 5\. I bullshited some names for Sniper and Pyro (who were the other kids in the RV, if you haven’t realized it yet), with Sniper being named Kevin Mundy (Kevin is the name of one of my dad’s best friends, and that guy is a pro sniper in video games) and Pyro being named Bonito REDACTED (no last name given… also, they’re called Bonnie for short). I hope you’ll like the names I chose for them!


	2. No Return Policy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty quick update, huh? I’m gonna do my best to get the next/last chapter out on Monday, but seeing as I’ve got family bonding time tomorrow, that’s a bit up in the air atm. Either way, I hope you’ll like this latest chapter! Someone very nice in the last chapter gave me a link to better write in a German accent for Medic, so I tried some of the tricks from that website; here’s to hoping it’s still legible!

The next morning, Spy sleeps in, on account of having stayed up so damn late the night before. Although it isn’t often he lets his son sleep in his room, as he doesn’t want the boy growing too dependent on him, he makes an exception just this once, allowing his child to sleep in his bed overnight. Predictably, this makes waking up at nearly ten in the morning much easier said than done, as while Spy is willing to be awake at pretty much any time of day, his son would much prefer sleeping in until noon. Having pity for his boy, the Frenchman tries to not wake Scout up while getting out of bed, quick to tuck his son back in with his stuffed crab while he gets himself ready for the day. Spy is nothing if not efficient, showering in less than five minutes before getting dressed, ready to work within the first ten minutes of waking up. However, any plans Spy might’ve had for the day- such as sharpening his knife before today’s mission, or having a nice breakfast with his son and teammates- is thrown to the wind as, while opening his bedroom door, Spy is immediately greeted by the sight of a  _ very  _ irritated looking Administrator, the posh woman’s hair messier than he’s ever seen it, likely from a lack of time to get ready this morning. Hiding behind her legs is Miss Emily Pauling, the raven haired girl clutching onto her mother’s dress in order to keep close to her.

“Good morning, Spy,” The Administrator greets, her tone clipped and short-tempered. “Though it can hardly be called such a thing, what with our damn communications being broken. The  _ minute  _ they went down, I made my way down here. Needless to say, I have a feeling that smoking RV in the garage is what caused the blackout, correct?”

“Oui,” Spy doesn’t bother elaborating, tempted to pull out a cigarette and start smoking, but he won’t when there are young kids around. “Why not ask ze engineer? Last I checked, he was ze one in charge of ze garage.”

“He’s still sleeping,” The Administrator explains, shrugging half-heartedly at Spy’s suggestion. “Besides, I don’t trust him to give me an accurate explanation of what really happened.”

“Oh, so now you suddenly trust me? Zis is new,” Spy mutters, doing nothing to hide his contempt for the woman, as he still resents her for forbidding his son from talking to her daughter. “How about you go figure it out yourself, Administrator? Zis is  _ your  _ job, no?”

“Spy, I  _ swear, _ if you don’t-” Before the Administrator can finish making the threat, she’s cut off by a loud, abrupt yawn.

Turning around to see what it is, Spy has to bite back a smirk at the sight. The ruckus seems to have woken Scout, the child droopy-eyed and irritated as he wakes up, having the gall to glare at the two adults arguing just a few feet away from him. “Papa, can ya keep it down?” Scout asks, having the good sense to at least speak  _ somewhat  _ respectfully, even when half asleep. Sluggishly, the boy holds up his stuffed crab, his glare intensifying for the toy’s sake. “Monsieur Crab is tryin’ ta sleep, ‘n so am I!”

“Hi, Jeremy!” Miss Pauling chirps, the girl letting go of her mother’s dress, and without asking her mother if it’s alright first, she runs between Spy’s legs to join Scout in his father’s bedroom, plopping onto the bed to hug the boy. “How ya been? Mother and I have been all over the place lately! We went to Antarctica, and Spain, and France, and-”

“-You’ve been ta  _ France!?” _ Scout asks, eyes wide with wonder as that information kicks his brain into it’s usual state of hyperalertness. “My papa’s  _ from  _ France! What’s it like? Do people  _ really  _ eat frog legs? I bet they’re  _ super  _ gross!”

“I dunno if they eat  _ frogs, _ but they  _ do  _ have that really big building like they do in the movies! Ya know the one?” Miss Pauling stands on the bed, holding both her arms up and touching her fingertips together, attempting to recreate the Eiffel Tower. “It’s  _ so big! _ Mother and I went to the very top, and I got to throw a paper airplane off ‘a it! It went really far, all the way into a river!”

“Wow!” Scout shouts, grinning from ear to ear, entranced by Miss Pauling’s story. “That’s  _ so  _ cool, Emily! Guess what? Last night, a big car crashed into the garage, ‘n it was on _ fire!” _

_ “Really? _ Did anybody get hurt?” Unlike her friend, Miss Pauling is more concerned than anything else, not nearly as entertained by violence as Scout is.

Scout shrugs, a bit uncertain now, his smile disappearing quickly. “Yeah, three kids were in there… I dunno where their folks are, but they’re supposed ta be sleepin’ in the doctor’s office right now. Papa says they’re not gonna stay long, which sucks, ‘cus I really want more people ta play with ‘round here!”

Miss Pauling nods in understanding. “Sorry they’re not gonna stay, Jeremy… but at least they’re not dead, right? I hope they get better soon.”

“Me too,” Scout agrees, before a wicked little smile forms on his face, which in the past has been Spy’s only warning for when his son is about to do something very dangerous and/or foolish. “Hey, ya wanna go do somethin’  _ fun  _ together? There ain’t much ta do ‘round here, other than draw ‘n run a lot, but I’ve got a soccer ball we can kick around in the gym!”

“Okay, that sounds like fun!” Miss Pauling says, excited to finally have the chance to play with a kid close to her age. She chances a look at her mother, eyes big and pleading. “Mother, may I  _ please  _ play with Scout? I  _ promise  _ to be  _ really  _ careful!”

“Yeah, we’ll be  _ super  _ careful, Miss Administrator!” Scout promises, also giving the Administrator his best attempt at puppy-dog eyes. “So can Emily come play with me?  _ Please?” _

Spy and the Administrator share a look, the later of the two wearing an uncomfortable grimace. “I…  _ suppose so, _ honey,” The Administrator mutters, her tone noticeably more kind when speaking to her daughter. “Just be careful, alright? And don’t go anywhere near the garage until I tell you it’s safe!”

“Yes, ma’am!” Both children parrot, and without another word, they’re off and running, Scout not even taking the time to change out of his pajamas first.

With the little ones out from underfoot, Spy and the Administrator share a long sigh together, because although they don’t get along most of the time, they can at least relate to each other as single parents (though really, it’s temporary in Spy’s case). “So, from what I can gather from your  _ brat’s  _ rambling, you have three injured parties in the infirmary?” The Administrator asks, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.

Spy copies her, relieved to have a chance to get a quick smoke in. “Don’t call him a brat,” He says between puffs, tempted to blow a cloud in the Administrator’s face, but he has enough self-preservation to know better than to test his employer’s patience. “But oui, what he said is true… last night, an _ ‘R-V’  _ as Engineer calls it crashed into ze garage, and zree passengers were inside, all of which survived… strangely enough, zere were no adults to speak of.”

“None at all?” When the Administrator only gets a somberly shaken _ ‘no’, _ she tisks, not liking that news one bit. “Strange indeed… where’s the doctor? Has he worked on any of them yet?”

“Two were badly injured, so I would assume so,” Spy says, leaning against the door-frame as he tries and fails to appear less frazzled than he feels inside. “Last I checked, zey were in ze infirmary across base.”

“Take me there,” The Administrator orders, crossing her arms as an even deeper scowl begins to form on her face. “I want to see  _ exactly  _ what the hell we’re dealing with here. Again, are you  _ certain  _ there were no adults involved in this car crash?”

“Are you  _ deaf? _ Oui, I am  _ dead  _ certain,” Spy repeats, glowering at his boss. He’s tempted to tell her off for being so short with him, but in all honesty, he’d be pissed off too if he was the boss of a bunch of mercenaries who just found three unnamed kids. “Why exactly can you not go alone? Do I not even have ze luxury of eating before whatever bullshit you call my job begins for ze day?”

The Administrator dares to laugh at Spy’s joke, rolling her eyes at the backsass. “I’m only asking you to take me there because I’ve only been in this base so many times, and I’ll be  _ damned  _ if I ever come here enough to become familiar with this wretched place. No,  _ you  _ will take me there, Spy. And perhaps on our way there, you can fill me in as to why you let your own son sleep in your bed.”

Spy scoffs outright, not that surprised that the Administrator is unfamiliar with comforting children, even her own. “It’s called being a good father, something I doubt you are familiar with.” He makes an effort to say father instead of parent, for fear of the Administrator backhanding him for questioning her parenting methods… besides, insulting her this way lets him take a jab at whichever man was unfortunate enough to father this hell-spawn of a woman.

The Administrator looks just about ready to chew him out for it, but instead she just rolls her eyes again, deciding to let it slide. Spy’s tempted to keep digging, see if he can get a better reaction than that, but he knows a parent watching their temper when he sees one, so out of both pity and understanding, he holds his tongue, and wordlessly, he leads her to the infirmary.

* * *

From somewhere else in the base- the community gym, if Spy had to take a wild guess- are the distant cries of Scout and Miss Pauling playing a friendly game of soccer, the children’s laughter a welcome reprieve from the somber mood throughout the rest of the base. As direct action, especially of the verbal variety, is not his strong suit, Spy watches the Administrator and Medic converse from across the infirmary, the two talking in hushed tones, occasionally glancing at the two children still unconscious in their beds. As luck would have it, John woke up earlier in the morning, and after receiving a few bandages and stitches from Medic, the boisterous young lad was up and at it like nothing had happened, rambling on and on about the army and how he was ready to start killing commies. Spy wasn’t there to see it, of course, but Heavy told him in passing that it took Demoman nearly a whole  _ hour  _ to hush the boy to a more appropriate volume, and after a bit of negotiating with Medic, the bomb expert took John out for a walk around base to try and get some energy out of the kid, which is why the boy isn’t here right now, or else the Administrator would likely be interrogating him until he gave her more answers.

Silently, Spy glances at the slumbering children nearby, the heart monitors they’re hooked up assuring him that they’re still alive, so at least there’s that small comfort. After most everyone else had gone to bed, Engineer risked going into the RV himself after putting out the fire, taking some time to look for clues or anything of importance. In the midst of the cave-in, he found a few backpacks, as well as a large stuffed animal, which had been burnt quite badly, but not so badly that it needed to be tossed out. Upon bringing everything inside, John had woken up, and very loudly he screamed that the stuffed animal was  _ “Private Bonnie’s Balloonicorn” _ , and without so much as asking first, he had snatched the toy from Engineer and placed it beside the kid who had been trapped in the midst of the cave-in. Spy let’s out a short sigh, uncomfortable as he continues watching the kids sleep, unwillingly worried for them. Before his son had been born, the mercenary had thought himself incapable of caring about anyone, save for his wife. Then Scout had been born, and everything changed. As he grew up, Spy’s love for him grew, as well as his love for the other boys he and his wife were raising back home.

So needless to say, seeing two young kids all burnt up and hurt… well, it’s bound to make a father uneasy, especially with his own young closeby.

At long last, Medic and the Administrator finish their conversation, the former of the two appearing relieved that the impromptu interrogation is finally over. The minute Spy and his boss lock eyes, the Administrator huffs, shaking her head with disappointment. “Although I should be relieved to know that what happened last night was in no way an attack on our base, and was instead an unexpected accident… I can’t help but be even  _ more  _ uneasy. Dr. Ludwig,” She turns to Medic, raising an eyebrow at the doctor. “Would you please fill Spy in for me? I need a minute to smoke.” She steps out of the room, having the good sense not to smoke in an infirmary of all places.

Medic sighs, giving Spy a leveled look. “As I hypothesised last night, zese children are not all zat zey seem…” He steps over to his computer, pulling up three seperate missing person files that Spy suspects he stole from a government database. “Zey are  _ all  _ runaways… ze two zat are unconscious, zey are from a detention center for misbehavink youths… ze one in ze fest, zat is Kefin Mundy, a twelve year old from Australia. And ze other one is Bonito, at zirteen years old… no last name gifen, as he is a ward of ze state. Or rather,  _ zey  _ are a ward of ze state… do  _ not  _ misgender zem in John’s presence, or he vill most assuredly slap you senseless,” Medic chuckles at that, and it’s now that Spy realizes where he got the red mark on his face from, having assumed up until now that the doctor got a slight burn or something. “Boz children have been missink for nearly zree months, havink likely picked John up durink zeir travels… how zey got all ze vay here from Maine is unknown to me, but vat is clear is zat zey are not beink looked for. At least, not anymore zen ze other zousands of missink children in zis vretched country.”

“So what you are saying is… zey are orphans?” Spy asks, a sinking sense of dread filling his insides. “Zere are no parents to speak of, not even an aunt or uncle? Older siblings, perhaps?” He can already feel a nervous sweat building on the back of his neck, unwillingly terrified to hear Medic’s answer.

Medic goes back to looking at his computer for a minute. His eyes light up for a second, before they dim again, his excitement dead in seconds. “No, none at all… Kefin Mundy has foster parents in Australia, but zey have not even been contacted about his initial disappearance, as he is meant to be in a… vat’s ze word? Children’s prison? It doesn’t matter,” He explains, not knowing the word for  _ ‘juvy’  _ off the top of his head, so he improvises. “Bonito is just as unclaimed, if not more so, as zeir foster parents have gifen up zeir custody of zem.”

“What about John?” Spy inquires, curious of the only kid he’s had the chance to talk to. Maybe  _ he  _ has some nice parents that can come and take them all off the team’s hands?

Medic shakes his head in defeat, his expression one of both pity and sadness. “Not even ze  _ police  _ could identify him… he was found wanderink ze streets of Illinois, havink contracted amnesia from some unknown incident. He escaped ze hospital, and has since been spotted hitchhikink; zis is likely how he met ze other children.”

Spy wants to groan- wants to pound his head into the wall until he has amnesia like John- but instead he just grimaces, wishing more with every passing second that it had been an enemy attack last night and not… whatever the  _ fuck  _ this is. “So zere are no other options, are zere?” He asks, tone somber as he stares at the tiled floor, glad that he didn’t get the chance to eat breakfast yet, or else he’d probably be tempted to puke. “Zree orphans are now in our custody, all of which are not being looked for by ze government, and if zat were not enough, bringing zem to local law enforcement would be suicide for our operation, not to mention dangerous for ze children.”

“Bonito detests zeir given gender, Kefin Mundy is listed as  _ ‘dangerously curious’, _ and John is an amnesiac wiz no family to speak of… ja, as one might zay, vee are royally  _ fucked,” _ Medic pulls no punches, and although he’s grinning, he slams his hands on the nearest table, suggesting he’s much angrier than he’s letting on. “Zree orphans, and no vay to get rid of zem… seems we are becomink more of a  _ daycare  _ zen a  _ mercenary base,  _ ja?”

Spy waves him off, not having the patience for his jokes. “What did ze Administrator say?” He may as well ask, because if  _ anyone  _ can figure out what to do, it’s the woman in charge of this entire operation; Spy may give her hell, but she’s a brilliant woman, and he damn well knows it.

“She vanted to abandon zem at a hospital several states over, but as zey hafe seen our base of operations…” Medic trails off, as if even he, the mad doctor who’s replaced everyone’s hearts with animal ones, is sickened by his employer’s idea. “Vee must either keep zem on base as vee do vith your zon, or zey must be terminated vithin ze day.”

Spy’s blood runs cold at that, and if he had a cigarette, he definitely would’ve dropped it. “She can’t be  _ serious!”  _ He shouts, eyes wide with surprise. What on  _ earth  _ is the Administrator  _ thinking!?  _ “What, does she expect us to kill zree children in zeir sleep!?”

Medic looks away, eyes giving nothing away. “I vould assume so, ja… but she knows zat although vee are all quite merciless on ze battlefield, vee are  _ not  _ child killers,  _ especially  _ not you or ze engineer.”

Spy relaxes a bit at that, relieved that he won’t be smothering any kids tonight… he’s done it to countless adults, sure, but never anyone under eighteen or so. “Zen we will be raising more children in ze base? Ze Administrator cannot take zem elsewhere?” When Medic only shakes his head, the Frenchman sighs, already feeling a headache coming on. “Well, at least mon fils will receive some good news tonight… you know, he was quite upset last night, when I told him zat ze children would likely not be staying with us.”

“At least you didn’t  _ completely  _ lie to ze boy,” Medic offers, quick to begin jotting things down on his clipboard as he double-checks the children’s heart monitors. “Seems zings are about to get  _ much  _ louder around ze base… please remind me to get child safety locks on more of my equipment, if you hafe ze time.”

Spy gives a rare chuckle, secretly glad that Medic is trying to cope with humor; it’s a welcome reprieve from the stress building up in his skull like a too-full balloon. “I will do my best to remember, doctor. Is zere anything you need, or should I make sure our boss does not fill zis base with more smoke zan zat car did last night?”

Medic laughs outright at that, his smile more genuine now. “I’m vine, Sphy… zank you vor speakink vith me, it has put my racing mind to rest. But ja, I vould advise zat you to keep ze Administrator from givink herself lung cancer any earlier in her life.”

Spy doesn’t bother saying anything else. Instead, he ducks out of the doctor’s office, thankful to be away from the kids for awhile, the sight of them injured still making him more than a little uncomfortable. To the tall man’s surprise, the Administrator is nowhere to be found when he leaves the infirmary, only the light stench of cigarette smoke- not even Spy’s brand, which is a crime all on it’s own- lingering in the air. There isn’t enough of a scent to properly follow, so Spy begins to quietly wander the base, following in the direction of the most noise. To his shock, he doesn’t run into anyone during his search, not even Heavy or Demoman! Soon enough, Spy finds himself walking by the gymnasium, only to hear a loud chorus of cheers from inside. Startled by the noise, he stops dead in his tracks, and at the sound of another round of shouts and applause, he walks briskly towards the gym, his moves more frantic than he’ll ever admit. He  _ definitely  _ heard his son’s voice in that shouting, and if he’s in  _ danger…  _ it doesn’t matter that they’re supposed to be safe here, Spy will  _ always  _ be protective of his son, especially in what is still very much a warzone.

However, as Spy swings the double doors open in search of who made all that cheering, he’s greeted by a rather strange sight, at least in a place like this. Scout, Miss Pauling, and to the Frenchman’s shock, John and Demoman, are all playing soccer together, with the younger kids all facing the Scotsman in a three vs one game. Sitting in the rarely used bleachers is Heavy and Engineer, the two men cheering loudly for the kids to succeed, with the Administrator sitting in the very front row, yet she refuses to cheer or scream, simply watching the game play out from afar. At first, Spy considers putting this game to an end, for fear of John’s wounds reopening or Scout getting hurt, but once he sees everyone playing’s bright, happy smiles… quietly, he comes to sit next to the Administrator. In all honesty, Spy isn’t unfamiliar with this setting, having watched Scout’s older brothers play at sports games in the past, but he’s still nervous in this setting, unaccustomed to seeing his son- his young, seven year old, easily bruised son- playing such competitive sports. Not that Scout seems unprepared, the boy having always been very active for his age, especially when playing games with his older brothers, though he’s still too young to join any little league teams back home.

When Miss Pauling suddenly gets a good kick on the ball, Spy notices the Administrator smirk out of the corner of his eye. He smirks as well, amused by the typically stoic woman finally showing an emotion other than anger. “I see our children are getting along  _ swimmingly,” _ Spy comments, voice low enough that only his boss will hear him. “So, who’s winning? Afraid I seem to have missed most of ze match.”

The Administrator jolts at the sound of Spy’s voice, wiping her head to the side to glare viciously at the man. “Dammit, Spy, can you bother to warn a woman before scaring her shitless!?”

“If I did, it would have been foolish to hire me,” Spy points out, leaning back as he watches the game more closely now, the sight of Demoman getting his ass kicked by three kids all too amusing to him. “It’s nice, seeing zem have some fun for once… makes you almost forget how terrible our situations are, no?”

“You have a point,” The Administrator admits, her frown becoming one of guilt as her eyes linger on Miss Pauling, every giggle from the girl’s throat feeling like knives through what should’ve been her cold, dead heart. “Did I ever tell you why I started raising her?”

“No, not zat I recall,” Spy says, surprised that his boss is bringing this up, especially with- in her own words- her least favorite employee. “I always figured she was ze product of an ill timed one-night-stand in your youth.”

“Oh  _ please,”  _ The Administrator brushes him off, rolling her eyes at Spy’s assumption. “As if I’d  _ ever  _ let a man into my bedroom. No, raising her has been more of a…  _ promise, _ to someone I knew a long time ago,” She stares down at her hands, fiddling with one of the many rings adorning her fingers, though notably, it’s not a wedding ring. “Years ago, before I got into this business, I knew this real sweet couple… I wasn’t fond of being around other people, but those girls, they were different. They were so innocent, so unaware of how fucked up our world is, especially for women like them. After they adopted Emily, they named me the godmother, and then… then they got shot, because this world is a shithole, and I’ve seen too much of it not to hate it by now,” Her eyes go to Miss Pauling again, and despite the dark subject manner, she smiles towards the little girl. “I took her in, ‘cus I knew no one else would. Even with a bitch like me raisin’ her, somehow she’s still so…  _ sweet,  _ just like her moms were. It kills me sometimes, knowing she ain’t gonna be like other kids, but at least she’s alive, right? Weren’t for me takin’ her, she would be dead right now.”

Spy doesn’t ask for further details, able to draw up a rather gruesome picture from what little the Administrator has told him so far. He considers placing a land on his boss’s shoulder to comfort her, but neither of them are touchy feely people, at least not on the clock, so he keeps his hands to himself. “She’s lucky to have you for a mother,” He says, trying to give reassurance with his words rather than his actions. “I mean, just  _ look  _ at her… she worships ze very ground you walk on.”

“That’s what scares me.” The Administrator says, her eyes wet, but she refuses to let the tears fall, not here, not in front of her employees.

And although Spy doesn’t get along with his boss, although he still doesn’t really  _ like  _ her, even after hearing her story, he gets that. Hell, he’s  _ living  _ through that, well aware that Scout idolizes him, talking all the time about how much he wants to be like his father when he grows up. It doesn’t help that all the kid’s seen so far are the  _ “cool” _ parts about being a mercenary, all the glory and downtime and extra finances, and while Spy would never want to  _ intentionally  _ traumatize his son on the off-chance it might keep him from following in his footsteps, it still scares him, seeing so much of himself is already taking shape in the boy’s personality. As if to try and convince himself that this isn’t the case, that his son isn’t becoming him, Spy glances back up at the game, watching Scout shout orders to John and Miss Pauling throughout the match, the trio working together to outrun Demoman and score goal after goal. The Frenchman can’t help but smile, his heart warm with pride, watching his son lead the way to victory. Even if Scout is quite a lot like his father, what with his appearance, his knack for going undetected when he’s quiet, and his ability to pick up new skills quickly, he’s still his own person, and will continue to grow into a man that will be quite different from Spy.

“It’s ten points against zero, Demo!” Scout shouts, grinning victoriously with John and Miss Pauling on either side of him, the boy giving into gloating late into the game. “Ya may as well go cryin’ home to your ma, ‘cus we’re whipin’ the floor with ya!”

“Only ‘cus ya little shites outnumber me,” Demoman points out, but he’s grinning all the while, happy to play around with the kids on their level, even if it means getting humiliated in the process. “Aye, Engie, how ‘bout givin’ your drinkin’ buddy a hand, pal?” He looks to the bleachers for help, hoping to gain more of an advantage.

“No can do, Demo,” Engineer offers no such help, too busy strumming his guitar during his much needed downtime, after spending hours and hours last night cleaning up the garage for his team. “Come on, partner, don’t go callin’ it quits now! You can still beat ‘em!”

“Easy fer you ta say, ya bloody coward,” Demoman gripes, scowling at the good-for-nothing repairman. He then looks to Heavy, expression hopefully. “Heavy? Me Buddy? Me Pal? Please, won’t ya help me kick these lil’ gremlins ta next Tuesday?”

“Heavy already played with children; now is your turn.” Heavy is even less helpful than Engineer, continuing to smirk at the bomb expert.

Demoman gives a long, exhausted sigh, but Spy can tell it’s being exaggerated in order to entertain the kids. “Me own team, me friends, me brothers in arms… children, watch carefully, for you are seein’ da betrayal of a lifetime.”

“I wouldn’t join in to get beat up, either,” Miss Pauling admits, unable to keep from smirking at Demoman’s misfortune. If Spy had to guess, he’d say that the little girl’s never played a team sport before, so this is all very new and exciting for her. “Don’t be sad, Mr. Demo! The game’s almost over!”

“Cheeky lil’ lass,” Demoman mumbles, glaring at the girl and her friends. “You lot think you’ve got me beat, do ya? Well, I’ll show ya all just how  _ wrong  _ ya are!” He kneels, getting ready to run at the kids for round two, only to be stopped by a shout.

_ “Hold it!  _ I need to give my last speech to the troops, or our plans of victory will  _ never  _ succeed! Soldiers,  _ attention!” _ John bellows, and just like that, Scout and Miss Pauling stand at attention for the older boy, though they have to fight not to giggle. In the meantime, John starts walking back and forth in front of the duo, much like a drill sergeant would. “Cadets, today we are fighting our greatest enemy yet;  _ oppression!” _ He announces, beginning a monologue. “Do you know who oppresses us?  _ Communism! _ This man, this drunken soldier-” He turns, pointing directly at Demoman. “-He  _ stands  _ for our oppression, for our _ submission!  _ Tell me, soldiers, what would happen if oppression _ won? _ If  _ communism  _ overtook our  _ great  _ nation?”

Scout smirks, only answering in order to play along with John’s behavior, not recognizing that the older boy is being serious. “We’d lose, ‘n that would suck!” He says, as he doesn’t really understand what communism even  _ is  _ yet.

_ “Correct! _ What  _ else  _ would happen?” John digs for more answers, not satisfied with just Scout’s lackluster response.

“We’d have ta follow socialism, which is very different from capitalism, our current financial and legal system for the United States government!” Miss Pauling explains, knowing much more about politics than Scout, seeing as she’s being raised in the midst of what would no doubt be a political scandal if news of the gravel wars got out.

“That’s  _ exactly right,  _ Private Pauling!” John grins at Miss Pauling, breaking character long enough to give her a high-five, before getting right back to business, continuing to pace in front of his peers. “Capitalism is what our  _ beautiful  _ nation is based on, and without it, America would be in  _ shambles!  _ Therefore, we must destroy  _ all  _ sense of oppression from this world, and protect the  _ beauty  _ of our young,  _ perfect  _ country!”

_ “Yeah! _ Destroy the bad guys!” Scout cheers, becoming more excited after hearing John’s speech. “I’ll beat down depression with a bat ‘n make it cry to it’s mama!” He doesn’t even notice the misused word, too energized and ready to fight to care.

“We’ll win for sure!” Miss Pauling agrees, not nearly as bloodthirsty as her male peers, but hell, even  _ she’s  _ getting pumped up after John’s monologue!

John laughs, before turning on Demoman, who looks a little uncertain at this point, aware that the kids are getting too hyped up for their own good. “Do you see what you’re up against, soldier? Yes, this training session will be a  _ great  _ success, and a glorious start to my military career!”

“Um… little ones,” Demoman speaks in a purposefully softer tone now, trying desperately to make the kids ease up. “Let’s say we have a lil’ break, maybe calm down a tad… no need ta get too feisty n-”

Instead of heeding Demoman’s warning, John screams at the top of his lungs, cutting the man off mid-sentence. “ATTACK!” He bellows, and just like that, it’s chaos.

Demoman tries to hightail it and run, only for Miss Pauling to tackle his legs, sending him crashing to the floor. Scout takes full advantage of this, and with his experience of being picked on excessively by his big brothers- despite Spy and his mother’s  _ many  _ attempts at making the older boys go easier on him- he clambers onto Demoman’s back, putting all of his weight between his shoulder blades. To everyone’s relief, he doesn’t begin hitting or beating the Scotsman, instead just helping to keep him pinned to the floor, still too young to be familiar with proper fistfights. Before John can join in, Demoman stands up, letting out a playful, loud roar, as if he’s imitating a lion or tiger. Both Miss Pauling and Scout laugh uproariously at this, having to hold on for dear life to stay on the man, though Demoman does the former of the two a favor by picking her up and letting her ride one of his shoulders, Scout climbing up on his own to ride the man’s other shoulder. There’s no doubt that Demoman’s back will be aching like no tomorrow by the time supper’s served, but the man obviously could give less of a shit, taking great joy out of horseplaying with the kids in his care.

“Unhand them, you commie fiend!” John orders, glaring wholeheartedly at Demoman from beneath his oversized helmet.

“‘N what exactly are ya gonna do ‘bout it, ya lil’ scamp?” Demoman asks, playing coy as the two kids on his shoulders giggle, finding John’s seriousness hilarious. “I’ve got both ya teammates captured, ‘n you ain’t any bigger den me gran, so how ‘bout y-” He doesn’t get the chance to finish, as again, John interrupts him, except this time he does so by tackling the man.

Spy has to run and lunge to catch both Scout and Miss Pauling, breaking their fall so they don’t hurt themselves. “Cher Dieu, you are  _ all  _ insane,” He mutters, sparing the younger kids a concerned once-over. “Are you two alright? Nothing broken? No bruises or scratches?”

Scout chuckles, shrugging nonchalantly. “We’re  _ fine, _ Papa,” He promises, knowing how much his father worries about his safety, seeing as he’s always been pretty damn small, especially when compared to his brothers back home. “Did ya see us playin’ soccer, though? Did ya see how much we were  _ winnin’  _ by? Papa, I was runnin’  _ circles  _ ‘round ‘im, it was  _ so awesome!” _

Spy nods along, secretly feeling bad for not seeing the whole match, but he’s not about to tell his son that. “I did… mon fils, you’re so talented, you make ton père very,  _ very  _ proud.”

Scout beams at the praise, quick to hug Spy with all his might. “I love you, Papa.” He whispers, even while Demoman and John wrestle in the background, the boy oblivious to their horseplay.

Spy smiles, ruffling Scout’s hair as he hugs him in return. “I love you too, Jeremy.” He says, all while secretly sharing a smirk with the Administrator, who’s come and scooped Miss Pauling off of the floor to look her over herself.

“Did you have fun, sweetie?” The Administrator asks her daughter, using that same kind voice from earlier when speaking to the little girl. “My my, you’re so fast, I could hardly keep track of you! Maybe I should hire you as a mercenary, seeing as you outclass at least one of them.”

“Oi!” Demoman shouts, yelping as John twists his arm further behind his back in a very uncomfortable position from where they’re sprawled out on the floor, though the pain isn’t enough for the Scotsman to ignore his boss’s comment. “Ya really expectin’ me ta  _ not  _ go easy on your lil’ one!? What, you thinkin’ me daft? I ain’t got no bloody death wish, mun!”

“He has a point,” Spy says, sitting cross-legged on the floor with Scout settled comfortably on his lap. “If you had left even one scrape on mon fils, I would have ripped you apart.” He says this in a perfect monotone voice, not wanting to come off as overly emotional in front of his teammates.

“Ya  _ see!?  _ I ain’t riskin’ me hide on da off chance ‘a beatin’ ya child at a bloody  _ game!” _ Demoman insists, letting out a shrill yelp when John puts pressure on his arm again. “Oi, dat’s enough, lad! I’m done, I’m done!” He rapidly slaps the floor with his free hand, desperate for the wrestling match to stop.

To everyone’s relief, John isn’t so delusional that he keeps trying to fight with the mercenary, jumping off of Demoman the  _ minute  _ he surrenders. “As I predicted, communism was no match for the likes of me, America’s hero!” John declares, grinning from ear to ear with his hands on his hips, the boy beaming with pride at his victory.

Demoman rolls his eye at John, unimpressed by the boy’s bolstering. “Jus’ ya wait ‘til you’re a lil’ bigger, laddie. When you’re a big boy like me, I’mma show ya what  _ real  _ fightin’ looks like!” It’s an empty threat, as he’s grinning all the while, but he wouldn’t mind spooking the child after getting his ass kicked.

But this gets John to smile even wider, to Demoman’s immense surprise, the kid not the least bit intimidated by the threat. “I look forward to it, soldier,” John promises, turning and offering the man his hand. “That was a fine battle!”

Demoman blinks, before accepting the handshake, his expression one of befuddlement. “Um… aye, lad, it was plenty fun,” He agrees, but Spy can hear his hesitation, the bomb expert uncomfortable with how militant John really is. As if to combat the boy’s vicious nature, the older man suddenly grins, and while breaking free of the handshake, he abruptly scoops John up into a bear hug. “But ya know what’s even better den fightin’, kid? Gettin’ a big ole’ hug afterwards!” Demoman cheers, holding John up enough that his feet can’t touch the ground.

This catches John  _ very  _ off-guard, the boy squirming in surprise. “What is the meaning of this!? Soldiers do  _ not  _ hug their enemies after battle, or they would be at risk of being stabbed to death!”

“Whata ‘bout by ya teammates, lad?” Demoman asks, ignoring John’s surprise in favor of trying to rub his back in soothing circles, trying his damndest to convince the kid to relax. “Come on now, ya can’t go burnin’ da candle at both ends, me boy; ya need ta not overwork yourself, ‘specially not at your age!”

“But…” John trails off, simultaneously confused and looking touch-starved, but his inner soldier  _ demands  _ he keep fighting. “But I need to keep up with my training! Let’s have another round, come on! What are ya, a sissy little girl? Come on and fight me, maggot!” He squirms in excess, trying to punch and kick at Demoman, but it’s half-hearted at best, the kid obviously tuckered out after the soccer and impromptu wrestling matches.

Demoman shakes his head. “Nope, not right now,” He says, beginning to carry John out of the room. “Come along, sprout; ya haven’t eaten a morsel all bloody day, ‘n I’m nota ‘bout ta let ya faint while you’re playin’ later!”

John, again, appears quite conflicted, but he ultimately goes slack in Demoman’s arms, pouting nonetheless. “Very well,” He mumbles with all the disappointment of a toddler post-temper tantrum. “But afterwards, I  _ demand  _ that I be allowed to run laps around the base to make up for lost time!”

“We’ll see… maybe if ya say please.” Demoman offers, and with that he’s out the door, still carrying John to keep him from running off and  _ ‘training’  _ until he passes out.

The room goes worryingly quiet afterwards, everyone uncomfortable upon witnessing just how much of a child soldier John is, until finally, Miss Pauling gives her mother an uneasy look, tears gathering in her eyes. “Mother… is Johnny  _ okay?”  _ She asks, sounding dangerously close to crying her little heart out. “Why doesn’t he wanna eat? Why’s he keep talking about the army? I thought you had to be eighteen to join, right? Why’s he so worried about it when he isn’t even old enough to be a soldier yet?”

The Administrator wears a troubled frown, quick to hug her daughter a little tighter. “He’s  _ fine, _ honey,” She says, lying through her teeth, mostly because she still doesn’t know very much about John to give a clear answer, but also in order to preserve what’s left of her daughter’s innocence. “He’s just… a bit  _ headstrong, _ that’s all.” She goes for that excuse, seeing as it isn’t  _ completely  _ false.

“He acts pretty weird,” Scout states, glancing worriedly up at his father. “Papa, what’s capitalism? And what’s communism? Is it  _ really  _ as bad as Johnny makes it sound?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Spy promises, not having the energy to right now. “Have you eaten yet, mon fils?” When Scout just shakes his head, the Frenchman bites back a sigh. “Then come along, let’s get you fed, and then dressed in something appropriate.” He adds the last part upon realizing that, yes, his son is  _ still  _ in his damn pajamas when it’s almost fucking  _ noon. _

“Okay, Papa,” Scout agrees, preferring to not be carried as he gets off of Spy’s lap, only to turn around and offer his dad his little hand to try and help him up. “Whatcha wanna eat?” He asks, trying to help move the conversation along.

“How about eggs and toast?” Spy offers, smiling as he takes Scout’s hand in his, though he has to slouch a little in order to keep holding it once he’s standing upright again.

Engineer perks up when he hears them mention breakfast, smiling as he pulls his guitar to rest on his back. “If we’re eatin’ breakfast, ya can’t forget the bacon!” He chimes in, looking giddy at the very thought.

“And sandviches,” Heavy adds, smiling as well as he gets up, following Engineer down from the bleachers, having to be careful not to trip on his way down, as the bleachers are very small and narrow, and he’s very big and tall. “You cannot forget sandvich… or milk, to make bones strong.”

“I  _ love  _ milk!” Scout chirps, grinning from ear to ear at the mention of his favorite drink.

Spy smirks, secretly relieved still that his son loves milk and drinks it often… though admittedly, he hasn’t gotten any taller from drinking it so much, but Spy hasn’t the heart to tell Scout that just yet. “Zat sounds wonderful, gentleman. Perhaps we can have a nice day after all.” He murmurs, not even looking up as he leads his team out of the gymnasium, the Administrator following him, too.

By the time they reach the kitchen, Demoman has convinced John to sit quietly at the table, but by the looks of it, he’s managed to set John’s bowl of cereal on fire…  _ somehow. _ Thankfully, it takes little convincing for Demoman to hand the reins of organizing breakfast over to his coworkers, allowing Spy to cook the eggs, Engineer to fry the bacon, and Heavy to make sandwiches. Medic comes in a bit later for more coffee, but sticks around for the food, and soon enough, the whole team is eating breakfast together, the Administrator and Miss Pauling also eating with them. Over the course of breakfast, the children mostly control the conversation, Scout rambling about baseball and how he wants to teach everyone to play it later, Miss Pauling talking more about her and her mother’s latest adventures, and John shouting about his plans for the team’s battle strategies, the only interruptions coming from the kids needing to pause and eat periodically. All the while, Spy and the Administrator glance at each other occasionally, sharing small smirks when their kids get a chance to infodump. Neither of them really know what they’re doing as parents, both dangerously unprepared to rear kids on their own, and their coworkers/employees are no better, but… well, they can all work together on this, with the hope that more guidance will lead to better results.

After all, it takes a village to raise a child, though it should be noted that this village is filled to the brim with bloodthirsty, idiotic mercenaries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell that I haven’t played TF2 before and have no idea wtf I’m doing yet? Either way, I’m having a blast, and I hope you guys are having fun, too! Okay, rambling time:
> 
> 1\. Shout out to Golden_Might for giving me that link to a site that teaches you how to write German speech patterns; you’re my hero and a you’re a fucking god among men. I’ll eventually go back and fix Medic’s speaking parts in chapter 1 with these new rules, but I’m really freaking lazy so that might be awhile, lol.
> 
> 2\. I have no idea how to write the Administrator, since I’m bad at focusing on reading the comics, but I imagine her as this sort of stern, no-nonsense woman, up until (at least in the case of this AU) her daughter enters the room; then she’s the nicest, most patient mom on earth, leaving her employees trembling in both fear and confusion.
> 
> 3\. If it weren’t obvious enough, this is how the Administrator came to adopt Emily; she was good friends with a lesbian couple back in the day, but they died in an accident involving a robbery gone wrong, and as she didn’t want their newborn daughter to be mistreated in the foster care system, the Administrator adopted her, though it wasn’t easy (she DEFINITELY falsified some records to make her look like a better person). While working, she tries to not let Emily get too involved, but since it’s hard for her daughter to not be heard in the background when she’s talking over the communicators, she’s given her a codename: Miss Pauling. All of RED team knows Miss Pauling’s real name, but even then, only Scout calls her Emily.
> 
> 4\. I have it set up that certain mercs will be mentoring/adopting the new kids, and Demoman is meant to be Soldier’s future dad, seeing as he’s buddies with the enemy team’s Soldier (something that I might get into in this AU, I dunno). The others are pretty worried about Demoman, a known alcoholic, trying to “raise” John, but as has been hinted at so far, Demoman’s the only one who can really “get through” to John and talk to him at his level. He’s not a perfect dad, but he’s a good one.
> 
> 5\. Oh yeah, to end this ramble fest, the ages in this AU for the kids: Scout = 7, Miss Pauling = 8, Soldier = 10, Sniper = 12, and Pyro = 13!


	3. Prepaid Packages

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Making all the chapter titles postal jokes is by far the dumbest thing I have ever done as a writer, but whatever, I’m nothing if not dedicated to making the stupidest jokes on earth. I hope you all know that I combed through multiple “Aussie Dictionaries” for over an hour to help me write Mundy’s dialogue, so yeah, I apologize for what you’re about to read. Please enjoy!

Two days pass without much happening, other than the team getting more used to John being underfoot, as well as having the Administrator visiting literally everyday for hours on end, always bringing her kid along. According to her, she managed to negotiate her way into a temporary “ceasefire” with BLU, and although everyone else is too busy celebrating over the short break to question their boss about how she went about this, Spy can’t help but be suspicious. He  _ knows  _ that the Administrator is a cunning woman- cunning enough to find him in civilian clothes, with his wife and kids at the park during a family picnic, and offer him a job in broad fucking daylight- but not even  _ she  _ should be capable of getting into BLU base, organizing a meeting with whoever their boss is, and walk off without a single bullet-hole or cut on her person. It’s almost as if they’re  _ also… _

No no no, that would be just plain  _ stupid. _ Who on  _ earth  _ would run a  _ fake  _ gravel war, communicate with and give orders to  _ both  _ teams, and somehow make a  _ profit  _ off of it all? Spy wants to laugh at the very thought. It’s thoughts like this that have him fidgety on a quiet Sunday morning, the Frenchman given a moment’s peace before the day gets started, as Scout is off playing with John again this morning. Spy can’t help but smile fondly at that, relieved that his son finally has a friend out here. And as if John weren’t enough company to keep the boy busy, the Administrator visiting every day has  _ also  _ been wonderful for young Scout, as she always brings Miss Pauling along for the ride, and although the woman obviously distrusts Spy still, she at least let’s her daughter play with his son now, instead of angrily telling them that they aren’t allowed to be friends like she did when they first met each other.

As this is the case, Spy is taking all the time he can this morning to relax, because the  _ minute  _ Miss Pauling gets here, the  _ whole base _ will be full of non-stop noise, and the Frenchman is going to enjoy not having a headache for as long as he possibly can. It’s while he’s nursing a large cup of coffee- his third one this morning, but who’s counting?- and reading Teufort’s morning paper that the kitchen door swings open, and instead of Spy hearing the loud footfalls of Heavy, who’s yet to come and get his breakfast for the day, he hears the telltale sound of sock-clad feet on linoleum. At first, Spy is inclined to think it’s his young son, but as he looks up, mouth open with a greeting on his tongue, the man freezes, eyes widening when he sees two children standing in the doorway.

He knows who they are, of course-  _ the image of them lying in hospital beds that are far too big for them, unconscious and bleeding, will haunt him for a VERY long time- _ but it’s obviously a bit disorienting to see them up and about for the first time in… well,  _ ever. _ Spy already knows they’ve woken up before now, but only Medic has ever been around for those instances, and seeing as they’re still recovering from their various wounds, it’s not often they’re awake to begin with, much less walking around and exploring the base on their own; they must’ve snuck past Medic, that or the doctor slept in today. So, needless to say, Spy is  _ more  _ than a little surprised to see them, the young duo giving him a perplexed look once their eyes meet his.

The boy who had been wearing a vest- Kevin Mundy, if memory serves correctly- but is now wearing a brown hoodie that belongs to Demoman, gives the Frenchman a short glare, proving to the man that he’s distrustful. In the meantime the other kid, Bonito, is dressed in an oversized red sweater, their burnt Balloonicorn held protectively in their arms, the kid seemingly unaffected by the various burns on their stuffed animal. There’s a short standoff, neither party willing to speak, before gingerly, Mundy takes hold of one of Bonito's hands and leads them deeper into the kitchen, making a beeline for the refrigerator. The minute they’re close to an empty counter, Bonito hops up and takes a seat on the flat surface, beginning to kick their feet while they wait.

“Whatcha wanna eat, Bonnie?” Mundy asks, his accent sounding Australian, which isn’t all that surprising, seeing as that’s where Medic said he’s from. “Ya want some cereal? Plenty ‘a milk in ‘ere… or how ‘bout some apple slices? I know ya love some fresh fruit, Roo.”

Bonito shrugs halfheartedly, not willing to respond with their voice.

Mundy doesn’t even bat an eye, unbothered by the slightly older child’s silence. “Alright, how ‘bout one kick for cereal, two for apple slices, ‘n three for somethin’ else. Dat work, Bon?”

Bonito nods, and without missing a beat, they kick their right leg twice in quick succession.

Mundy chuckles at this, a small smirk on his face. “Apples it is den,” He says, closing the fridge and grabbing two apples out of the fruit basket nearby. However, as he grabs them, he pauses, a concerned pout forming on his face. “Bloody hell, almost forgot, Doc prolly would blow his lid if he saw touchin’ a knife roight now… I’m awful sorry, Roo, I forgot. It looks like we’re havin’ cereal after all.”

As Mundy is putting the apples back, a very disappointed look now on Bonito’s face, Spy steps in, snatching the apples from the boy’s hands before they can even touch the basket again. “You want apples, non? Zen allow me to help,” He offers, quickly getting a cutting board out of a nearby cupboard, all while pulling one of the knives out of the safety locked drawer they’re typically stored in. As Spy sets the apples on the board, he glances at the kids, who are staring at him with obvious surprise. “How do you like zem cut, hm? In ze shape of a flower, a swan, or regularly?” He keeps acting as if this is casual, trying to put the children at ease by pretending this isn’t abnormal for him, which it honestly isn’t.

Mundy blinks, snapping out of his daze quickly. “Who da bloody hell ‘re you, mate?” He asks, and although it comes out as a bit aggressive, he doesn’t seem like he’ll attack Spy or anything; he’s just cautious and scared, that’s all.

“I am ze Spy of zis team, and you may refer to me as such,” Spy explains, turning his attention to Bonito instead, as they seem quite friendly, despite their stoicness. “How would  _ you  _ like ze apples cut, petit jeune?” He asks, using a purposefully softer tone of voice for the quiet kid.

Bonito seems surprised to have been asked directly, but they brighten quickly enough. They set their Balloonicorn on a nearby counter for a moment, and wordlessly, they slowly raise their arms above their head in a  _ “blooming” _ sort of motion, before hugging their stuffed animal again. Were Spy less professional and suave, he’d laugh at how ridiculously adorable this kid is.

“They’re sayin’ they want it cut like a flower… but can ya really  _ do  _ that?” Mundy grows curious now, creeping closer to Spy’s left hand side, his eyes fixated on the uncut apples. “I ain’t ever heard ‘a somethin’ like dat… heck, not even  _ Mum  _ could do that, ‘n she could do almost anything!”

Spy resists the urge to raise an eyebrow when he hears Mundy mention his mother, as he knows the boy to be an orphan… could he be referring to his last foster family? From what Medic can gather, Mundy was very close with them before he was arrested in the United States, and seeing as his birth parents reportedly died/gave him away when he was a mere  _ infant…  _ yeah, he’ll just assume the boy is talking about his foster mom. Not bothering to answer the kid’s question, Spy begins intricately cutting the two apples, the motion familiar to him, as after he met Scout’s mother, he had to learn quickly how to help her care for her seven kids. Sure, he could’ve ignored the little brats and left her to do all the work, but Spy isn’t that kind of man, especially not towards the people he loves. He didn’t know what he was doing a lot of the time, but as it turns out, doing things in a more impressive manner than is strictly necessary- like cutting apples into the shape of a flower, for example- is an easy way to calm a crying child down, as well as get on their good side. It also doesn’t hurt that Scout’s favorite fruit is an apple, so Spy’s gotten used to cutting them up pretty regularly for his son.

Within a few minutes, the apples are cut, and Spy arranges the slices to spread out like a beautiful flower. In the meantime, Bonito has hopped off the counter and come closer, standing to Spy’s right while he finishes the arrangement, their eyes wide with wonder.

_ “Wow… _ that’s a real beauty, mate,” Mundy comments, his fingers flexing with the urge to grab a slice, but he’s too uncertain to grab one just yet. “Where’d ya learn ta do that?”

“I learned ze skill in passing, as many people do,” Spy explains, having no need to lie to the boy about something so small. “I could teach you, once you are better of course. Go on, have some; zey are not just for decoration, you know.” He says it teasingly, secretly amused by the skittishness of both children.

Bonito is quick to pluck one once they’re given permission- notably, they grab one that doesn’t take away from the display’s beauty- and pop it into their mouth, a bright smile forming on their face afterwards. “Mmm!” They mumble out, chowing down on what’s likely the first tasty thing they’ve eaten in at least three or four days; after all, Spy’s had Medic’s so-called _ ‘health bars’ _ when stuck in the infirmary, and he wouldn’t wish that garbage on _ anyone, _ much less a child.

Mundy is still nervous, but with his friend not being punished for eating, he slowly joins in on his own apple, offering Spy a sheepish smile when they lock eyes again. “Um… thank ya very much, sir.” He says, his face red with embarrassment.

Spy shrugs halfheartedly. “It’s no trouble.” He promises, before returning to the kitchen table to finish his coffee, which has unfortunately gone cold, not that that’s going to stop him from finishing it off, of course.

To Spy’s surprise, the children don’t rush back to the infirmary like he expected them to. Instead, they take their apple slices to the table and sit down across from the man, the two exchanging silent looks between bites of fruit. Eventually, and rather predictably, all things considered, Mundy is the one to break the silence. “Um… excuse me, sir,” The boy goes for a more formal approach, likely catching on that Spy is a rather distinguished individual. “But may I ask ya a might few questions? I don’t mean ta be no trouble, but… the doc, he ain’t tellin’ us much, and you seem awful nice,  _ so…” _ He trails off, waiting for a reaction.

Spy sets his coffee aside, letting out a short sigh. “What has ze doctor told you zus far?” He may as well ask, just so he knows what the kids have been told; obviously enough to not be running away screaming, but not enough for them to trust anyone yet.

“Dat we were, uh, in a car crash… our RV got busted ta rubbish, ‘n he said he found us in the wreckage, barely even breathin’,” Mundy scratches at the back of his head; no doubt a nervous habit. “But he won’t say much else, jus’ that we gotta rest up, ‘n den he’ll tell us more.”

Spy considers whether or not he should just send the duo back to Medic’s office, as he isn’t sure if he’s even  _ allowed  _ to tell them anything, and yet… well, he can only imagine how  _ scared  _ they must be right now, in an unfamiliar place surrounded by unfamiliar people. “Has ze doctor told you about your friend John yet? Zat he survived as well?” Spy asks, getting another question out of the way before he goes any further.

Bonito nods, but Mundy gives a verbal answer as well. “Yeah, we saw ‘im a few times since we got ‘ere, when we was awake ‘n stuff… he didn’t get too banged up, so dat’s good,” He looks visibly relieved, which further suggests that the trio of children are closely bonded. “John ain’t exactly the wisest guy I ever met, but he’s a good friend… nice ta Bonnie, so I like ‘im plenty. Glad ta see he ain’t dead.”

“Yes, it was a relief to find you all still alive,” Spy agrees, deciding it’s now or never that someone gives these kids a straight answer. “As ze doctor said, we found you in ze wreckage of a car crash, as your vehicle crashed into our garage in ze middle of ze night. As you can likely imagine, it was quite surprising to wake up to,” He takes a sip of coffee, wetting his throat. “As for where you are, you are in a secret facility zat I cannot tell you very much about until my employer agrees zat you may know more about it. All you can know at ze moment, until further notice, is zat you are safe, and zat we have no intention of hurting any of you. Where we are, it is unsafe for you to leave, so I ask zat you please behave yourselves, and not try leaving ze base, or else you shall surely get yourselves killed.”

Mundy and Bonito think on that for a few seconds, sharing another meaningful look, before the non-binary child motions for their friend to come closer. Mundy does so, leaning over so his friend can whisper in his ear, too low for Spy to overhear them. “Alright, yeah… got it, Roo,” Mundy assures, patting Bonito on the shoulder as he straightens up again. “So, Mister… Spy?” When Spy nods, the boy continues. “So, um… we’re in New Mexico, roight? Dat’s where I remember us last bein’, before dat bloody pigeon flew across our windshield ‘n…  _ yeah,” _ He trails off again, and although his story  _ sounds  _ believable enough, Spy can’t help but think he’s lying about the cause of the crash. He continues soon enough, after shaking his head to ward off the memory. “So, yeah, if we’re ‘ere, ‘n we ain’t goin’ nowhere… does that mean you ain’t tellin’ the blue heelers ‘bout us? Ain’t gonna turn us in for runnin’ away? Ya know we are, dontcha?”

Spy considers his answer for a few minutes, sensing a great unease in the air. “Oui, you shall likely not be returned to ze police anytime soon… and yes, I know who you are, Kevin and Bonito,” Again, he answers honestly, aware that when children are lied to, they tend to not forgive quickly… thoughts of Scout, when he’d been told that his father was only going away for a short trip, fill Spy’s mind, reminding him that his lie led his son into hiding in one of his suitcases and getting flown here on accident. Pushing the thought away, he straightens, addressing the kids again. “As has been said, it is very dangerous to leave our base, so it would be pointless to try transporting you all ze way to ze police, especially when ze police are not on…  _ great  _ terms with us at ze moment.” He leaves it purposefully vague, not wanting the duo to know that every merc in this building has at least a few warrants out for their arrests.

There’s a long pause, where the kids just stare at each other, and Spy is half worried that they’re about to start bawling and screaming, as both sets of eyes have filled with tears. But to the Frenchman’s surprise, Mundy jumps up and cheers out of seemingly  _ nowhere, _ Bonito doing the same, but without the actual shouting that their younger friend is doing. The Australian boy goes absolutely off the fucking _ rails, _ jumping up on the chair he’d been previously sitting on and screaming like a madman, but not with any sort of rage in his throat, only fully fledged  _ glee. _ Bonito is much the same, skipping around the kitchen like a not-so graceful ballerina, humming a nursery rhyme that Spy can’t quite make out under their breath as they dance their Balloonicorn around the room, just as delighted as their partner.

All the while, Spy just  _ stares  _ at the kids, unsure of what to do or say. Why are they so happy about this? In his experience, most children are not happy upon hearing that they can’t leave a location until further notice- Scout is a wonderful example, the boy having had a full mental breakdown when he found out he was trapped in a warzone with only his dad and a bunch of strangers for company- so to see these two so excited to hear that they’re trapped in this place, where they know almost no one… all at once, Spy is made to wonder just how  _ bad  _ their situation was before now. Bad enough that they were driving an RV by themselves, on the run from the police and their previous foster families.

“It’s a bloody freakin’  _ miracle!” _ Mundy shouts, pulling off his hoodies and swinging it over his head like one would with a cowboy hat. “We’re free,  _ we’re free!  _ We ain’t ever goin’ back to that shitehole of a boardin’ school, Bonnie! No more beatin’s, no more gettin’ called f*gs, it’s finally fuckin’ over with, mate!”

“Hm hm hmhm!” Bonito yells, Spy able to recognize an obvious  _ ‘hip hip hooray’ _ through their mumbling.

Together, both children reunite a few feet away from the kitchen table, Bonito abandoning their plushie in favor of holding onto Mundy’s hands and dancing with him around the kitchen, both kids overjoyed and laughing, even as the tears finally begin to fall from their eyes. Flustered, Spy finally stands up, and it’s then that the duo freezes, painfully aware that they were being disruptive, and that they may not be as safe as they believed they were. Protectively, Mundy pushes Bonito to stand behind him, while the Australian boy pulls out a scalpel he must’ve stolen from Medic’s office, which he keeps pointed at Spy, practically daring the Frenchman to do anything to them.

It’s now that Spy sees it in their young, fragile eyes; the bone-crushing fear of punishment, of pain, of being beaten for being kids. Truth be told, it breaks his heart, seeing them flash so erratically between happy and terrified, but he supposes he understands. Hell, he understands a bit too well, having lost his father at a young age, and his mother left him with his older sister not long after that. Noelle did the best she could with him, but the pain of abandonment never left Spy, and after he became old enough for boarding school, well… to say the fear in these kids’ eyes is familiar would be an understatement, as the mercenary has seen firsthand just how unloving boarding school teachers can be.

Seeing as these two came from a boarding school specifically for misbehaving youths, Spy can only imagine that it was even  _ worse  _ for them, something he doesn’t want to think too hard about, lest he become a blubbering mess in uniform.

With all of the gentleness he can possibly muster, Spy raises his hands in mock surrender, showing the children that he doesn’t have any weapons on his person. “Easy now, des gamins,” He whispers, keeping his voice low. “I am  _ not  _ going to hurt you, not ever… whatever happened to you in zat dreaded school, it shall not be replicated within zese walls. You are  _ safe  _ here. I know you do not trust me, and I am not upset with you for zat, but… I swear on my life, I shall allow no harm to come to you, so long as I am here to keep you both safe.”

And just like that, both kids break down, neither Mundy nor Bonito able to hold in their sobs as reality finally hits them again that yes, they’re safe here, and no, this man won’t be like all the others they’ve faced. But years of abuse have left them hardly able to believe it, still skittish and hungry for freedom. It’s not really his style, especially not with kids that aren’t his, but Spy doesn’t let his pride get in the way as, very slowly, he walks forward, opening his arms to the duo. They both hesitate, scared of being hurt, but Bonito doesn’t last long, letting out an earth-shattering sob as they run out from behind their friend, nearly knocking Spy over in their desperation to hug him.

Mundy waits a moment more, his scalpel still raised defensively, but with his best friend not being beaten for getting a hug, he shakily steps forward, practically collapsing into the older man’s hold while simultaneously dropping his weapon to the floor. As has been said before, Spy isn’t exactly the strongest guy on his team- don’t tell anyone, but he’s probably the weakest physically speaking- but he manages well enough, as two preteens aren’t enough to take him down. He just keeps the kids leaning on him, trying to rub both their backs at the same time, but it’s hard when they both want attention, and he’s only one man, but he makes it work. It’s a few minutes in, with both children still crying pretty damn hard, that Engineer comes in, freezing in the doorway when he sees what’s going on.

“What in the… what happened?” Engineer asked, glancing nervously between the kids, Spy, the unfinished apple slices on the table, and the abandoned scalpel at his feet.

“Call ze Administrator,” Spy orders, his eyes never leaving the crying kids in his arms, especially when Bonito grabs at him with both hands, desperate for the hug to last longer. “Tell her zat we need to tell zem what’s going on, and perhaps, if zey are able to, zey could give us some answers as well.” Then he goes right back to softly murmuring to the preteens, all while Engineer dashes for the base’s landline.

* * *

It’s cold in the infirmary, so Spy makes a point of turning up the thermostat when Medic isn’t looking; he knows he’s not allowed to, but the sight of Mundy shivering so much has him worried. It’s not hard for him to get away with this, as Medic is fully committed to looking over the two kids now that they’re back, as he had never given them permission to leave the infirmary in the first place, so he wants to double-check that they’re still stable and well.

As the room warms up, Spy’s eyes wander around the room, trying to keep track of everyone at the same time, but it’s hard when there are so many people in such a small space. He  _ knew  _ they should’ve done this in one of the common rooms, but Medic wouldn’t shut up about how the kids needed to stay here in case they fainted from stress. As said before, the doctor has his two young patients in their beds again, but at least they’re allowed to sit up as they’re fussed over, Bonito noticeably more fussy than their friend. Upon noticing just how anxious the kid is, Engineer steps closer, offering the kid their Balloonicorn, as they’d been forced to set it aside when Medic started the examination. The moment they see their stuffie, Bonito grins, taking the toy and clutching it protectively to their chest; the German doctor makes no comment, aware that his patient needs comfort right now.

The Administrator is off to the side, much like Spy is, the index and middle fingers of her left hand looking in dire need of a cigarette, but she knows better than to smoke in here, or else Medic would blow a fuse over it. Scout and Miss Pauling, thank the lord, are not here to see any of this, kept busy by Demoman and Heavy, which Spy is grateful for, not wanting the younger kids underfoot while he and his coworkers sort everything out with the other children. Unfortunately, as John is so involved in this predicament, he can’t be distracted like them, leaving the ten-year-old fidgety and irritable on one of the cots close to his partners in crime. As Medic finishes with Mundy and Bonito, he moves onto the little soldier, who bites his lip and huffs as the doctor holds his chin, turning the boy’s face this way and that to look him over. Just to be safe, Medic even removes John’s helmet, which gets a loud growl from the boy as he clutches at his comfort item for dear life.

_ “No, _ you  _ can’t have it!”  _ John yells, glaring daggers at the doctor through his helmet. “Colonel Smith  _ gave me _ this helmet, and I’ll be  _ damned  _ if anyone takes it away from me!”

“But I need to check you ofer, little one,” Medic explains, using as level a voice as he can muster. “Come now, I von’t take it away forever. Now, be a guter junge and give ze doctor your helmet…” He reaches forward, ready to grab it off the boy’s head.

“No means  _ no!” _ John screams, kicking Medic in the chest; thank god the kid isn’t wearing anything more than a pair of oversized socks, or else that would’ve been a worse injury.

Medic yelps upon being kicked, having not expected it. He backs away for a moment, rubbing at his chest while giving John a somewhat amused little scowl. “Quite ze vighter, aren’t you? I cannot imagine how other doctors have dealt viz you in ze past,” He then glances at Spy, giving him a pleading look. “Vould you be so kind as to help me, Shpy? I don’t zink sweet-talkink shall get zrough to zis one.”

Sighing, Spy steps over to intervene, not that he’s all that thrilled to be getting between a mad doctor and a militant half pint. “Do you  _ really  _ need him to take ze helmet off, doctor?” He asks, glancing worriedly between two.

Medic nods, looking tempted to scold John for misbehaving during his check-up, but the doctor is nothing if not patient. “Ja, he really needs it ovv… tut mir leid, but I really  _ must  _ see if he has hurt himself; I have seen how he plays viz Demo, and moreofer, I vant to look over his stitches vile he is here.”

“You heard ze doctor, Johnathan,” Spy says, turning his attention back to John, who he can only imagine is giving him a very guilt-trippy look from under that oversized helmet. “I  _ know  _ you do not like it, but you  _ must  _ have your wounds tended to…” When the boy doesn’t budge, the Frenchman racks his brain for a better way to go about this, inspiration hitting him soon enough. “You wouldn’t want to risk being  _ sick, _ now would you? You wish to be a soldier, non? Zen you cannot risk infection.”

John squirms in place, still uncertain. “But… what if we’re attacked?” He asks, sounding more like a ten-year-old than he has since he got here, though that militantness is still there. “What if someone here is a spy, and tries to blow my head off after I take off my helmet? I  _ must  _ wear it at all times, even when I’m sleeping!”

Spy resists the urge to point that he himself is a spy, on account of not wanting to be piledrived by a preteen. As he opens his mouth to try again, maybe threaten the boy with no  _ ‘training’  _ if he doesn’t obey, he gets interrupted. “Crickey, mate, it ain’t gonna be too bad,” Mundy offers, the boy giving John a small, comforting smile from his cot. “He ain’t gonna hurt ya none… come on, don’t fuss now,” He gets off of his bed, and with Bonito’s nodded approval, he takes their Balloonicorn over to John, holding out the stuffed toy to him. “Ya wanna hold ‘er ‘til it’s over, mate? You know Bonnie’s stuffie is a clucky one, ‘n she’d be awful rapt ta keep ya company.” Mundy explains, his smile genuine and not as teasing as Spy would have expected.

John hesitates, looking between the Balloonicorn and Mundy, before he snatches the stuffed animal from the Australian’s grasp, quick to hug it in a deathgrip against his chest. With the boy’s finally hands preoccupied, Medic removes the helmet from John’s head, and Spy has to bite his lip to keep from reacting to seeing the kid’s face. Up until now, he’s never seen John’s face, so he honestly wasn’t sure what he thought the kid looked like, but he sure as well wasn’t expecting a brown haired, baby faced boy with sky blue eyes underneath that helmet. John has his eyes squeezed shut at first, body tense in preparation to be hit, but when no harm comes to him, he slowly opens his eyes, his confused face looking so much more youthful than the Frenchman ever could have anticipated. Spy knew the kid was young of course, but with him always wearing his helmet everywhere, it’s not hard to imagine him looking older, especially when John spends so much time insisting that he’s more mature than he really is.

As Medic goes about checking the large, stitched up gash on John’s forehead- it's a bit dirty, so the doctor has to clean it- Spy feels a tap on his shoulder. He flinches instinctively, swinging around to see that it’s the Administrator, who’s now wearing an all too smug smirk on her face upon spooking him. “Serves you right,” She teases, having not forgotten when Spy scared her shitless only a few days prior. However, she’s quick to sober up, her smile dropping in a heartbeat. “In all seriousness, I think it’s time you tell them what’s going to happen to them.”

Spy dusts off his suit jacket, refusing to admit that it’s a nervous habit. “What exactly do you plan on having me tell zem?” He asks in a hushed tone, not wanting the kids to overhear. “Zey don’t seem very eager to return to common life, however… zey are still  _ children, _ traumatized ones at zat, and I cannot imagine zeir contentment shall last forever.”

“Just go about it…  _ gently,”  _ The Administrator offers, the word sounding foreign on her tongue, so much so that even  _ she  _ seems uncomfortable using it. “No matter what though, we  _ cannot  _ allow them to know just how dangerous their situation is, nor that anyone here is a wanted criminal. If you think you can get away with it, lie as much as possible, especially about RED.”

“Children do not take well to being lied to,” Spy points out, not as confident in that idea as his employer. “Last time I lied to a child, he zought zat sleeping in my suitcase would keep from leaving him and his brothers…”

“Ouch,” The Administrator says, tone lacking any real sympathy. “Well, this time just try to lie  _ better,” _ She orders, completely ignoring Spy’s warning for what it is. “Kids are kids, and while  _ mine  _ is a genius, I know that most children aren’t as perfect as she is… so yeah, fucking lie to them; at least this time there’s no chance of you sneaking them into a warzone, right? They’re already trapped in one.”

Spy glowers at the woman, not appreciating the joke. “I will tell zem what I must,” He offers, neither agreeing to follow orders nor disobeying them; it’s a skill he picked up early on in his boarding school days. “Now, are you planning on participating in zis conversation, or are you planning on leaving zat to us?”

“This is  _ your  _ problem, not mine,” The Administrator deadpans, which honestly doesn’t surprise the Frenchman; he didn’t expect her to be very helpful when it came to this part. “All I can do to help is keep the government from finding them, after that it’s up to you to keep them alive… or don’t, whatever suits you best,” She turns towards the door, preparing to leave. “Just know that if any of them become too much for you to deal with, I’m not going to take them off your hands; I’ve already got  _ one  _ kid, and I’m perfectly happy with just her. Good luck, Spy.” With that, she’s out the door, looking to be heading towards the common room down the hall, where Scout and Miss Pauling are supposed to be playing right now.

Spy let’s out a long, weathered sigh after the Administrator leaves, not sure why he expected any different from his boss. At the very least, it seems like all three kids get along pretty damn well, so it’s not like he has to worry too much about in-fighting. Hell, he’s pretty sure they’ll mesh well with Scout too, even if the boy hasn’t met the other two kids yet; Bonito is fairly innocent and agreeable around most everyone, while Mundy appears to be a mature and responsible kid, making him a great influence on the other children, especially John. Even with all of these positive things in mind, Spy can’t help but feel at least  _ somewhat  _ uncertain, not sure how to go about more or less raising three more kids… but if he was willing to help Becky raise seven kids at the drop of a hat, then he’ll be  _ damned  _ if he doesn’t offer the same to these kids, too. His mind settled, Spy pulls over Medic’s wheely chair and takes a seat in front of the three occupied cots, waiting until Medic’s finished with John to speak to the trio.

“As I’m sure you all understand by now, you cannot leave zis place,” Spy starts with the obvious, hoping to get most of the crying out the way early. “While I cannot spare you many details, ze adults in zis base are working on a  _ very  _ important project, and while all zree of you are very smart bo-” He stops himself, eyes glancing at Bonito. “-Children,” He corrects, which earns a warm smile from the kid. “Zis is no place for you to wander… but unfortunately, you cannot be moved to another location, so you  _ must  _ stay here until our project is finished.”

Mundy’s eyebrows furrow with worry, the preteen’s anxiety obvious. “So… how long’s dis  _ ‘project’  _ gonna last, mate?” He asks, the word project coming out more hesitantly; he knows something much bigger than that is going on, but he understands that he can’t ask about it just yet, if ever. “Not dat any ‘a us are lookin’ ta go anytime soon, but I can’t help be curious.” He goes into more detail, as if to keep Spy from lashing out at him for being nosy.

Spy nods in understanding, pretending to not notice how nervous Mundy is. “As you have every right to be,” He agrees, not faulting the boy for asking questions. “However, even  _ I  _ have no idea how long zis project shall last… it could go anywhere from two more weeks to two more years, if not longer zen zat.”

John simply nods at this, well aware of how tricky wars can be. “None to worry, officer!” He says, voice chipper and excited despite the tense atmosphere. “Now that I’m here to fight, this war will be over sooner than ever! Just point me in the direction of the enemy base, and I’ll have them all dead before you can say-”

“-John,” Engineer interrupts, not allowing the boy to keep rambling. “It ain’t that simple, son.”

John waits a few seconds, before continuing on with his rant. “Well, yes, I  _ can  _ be done before you can say that, but please, at least let me get started, Sargent Engineer,” He hops off his bed, making a beeline for the infirmary’s only exit. “Now then, if you’ll excuse me, I need to find myself a proper rocket launcher!”

Medic steps in front of the door before John can reach it, blocking the boy’s path. “You are not goink anyvhere, kinder,” He warns, tone stern as he crosses his arms at the child. “Back to bed viz you.” He puts a hand on one of John’s shoulders, trying to turn him back towards his bed.

John struggles in Medic’s grip, not at all on board with the doctor’s suggestion. “But I have a war to win!” He shouts, trying to push the German away, but the man outclasses him with ease, too tall and strong to be pushed over by a ten-year-old. “If you do not move this instant, I’ll report you to your commanding officer!” He snaps, pushing even harder now.

Spy moves to step in, but Bonito, to his surprise, beats him to it. The kid hops off their bed, running to grab John by the shoulders and move him away from the door, taking him aside to talk. Although Bonito doesn’t say a word, John nods as he stares into the older kid’s eyes, as if they’re having a full conversation. John then sighs, his voice sounding guilt-ridden. “I know, I know… I shouldn’t be acting so aggressively towards my elders, but I want to help in the war effort! You know that the communists are a menace, and if I don’t fight, then who will?”

Bonito says nothing, simply tilting their head at John.

This gets another sigh out of John, who nods his head in agreement to something unknown to the adults in the room. “Yes, you’re right… I’m better off training until I’m better prepared for war,  _ then  _ I can take the fight to them damn communists!” He smiles now, having to lean on his tiptoes to wrap his arms around Bonito’s neck to hug them. “Thank you for reminding me not to get too ahead of myself, Private Bonito; I can always count on you for a moving speech!”

In the meantime Spy, Engineer, and Medic exchange a look. “Uh… did y’all hear what dey said to ‘im?” Engineer asks, giving Bonito a rather quizzical once-over.

“Non,” Spy admits, though he doesn’t have much of a problem with not knowing. “Zat one is a mystery, but I do not believe zey have any ill intentions… if anyzing, zey are a welcome reprieve from Johnathan’s shouting.”

“I’ll say,” Mundy says, adding his own two cents to the adults’ conversation. When they just stare at him, he appears sheepish, giving them an apologetic smile. “Sorry for intrudin’, mates, I jus’ couldn’t help myself… I been hangin’ with these cobbers for months now, ‘n as much as I love ‘em, they can turn me into a real rat bag, so it’s a bit nice ta talk to somebody else for a change!”

Seeing as Bonito and John are rather preoccupied with each other, as well as seeing that they’re less likely to give information to the adults they’re being monitored by, Medic tries to get some more info out of Mundy instead. “So zen, Kefin,” He addresses the boy by his first name, trying to come off as friendlier, but Spy still feels as if the doctor can’t drop his _ ‘creepy experimenter’  _ persona, even in front of a bunch of children. “Iv you vould be so kind, could you perhaps tell us more about how your fehicle came to crash into our garage?”

Mundy seems hesitant at first, as if he regrets speaking up, but with a heavy sigh, he sits cross-legged on his bed, trying to get more comfortable. “A’ight, you oughta know more, seein’ as yer bein’ nice enough ta let us stay ‘ere ‘n all,” He looks away as he speaks, unable to keep eye contact with the adults in front of him. “Me ‘n Bonnie, we… we ran away from an ankle biter prison,” He explains, his body language suggesting he’s afraid he’ll be punished for telling them such a thing. “The headmaster, Father Michael or whatever rubbish he wanted us ta call ‘im, he didn’t like either ‘a us dat much. I could get by, seein’ as I think I’m pretty bloody good at stayin’ outta people’s ways, but Bonnie… well, dey ain’t as lucky. Headmaster didn’t like ‘em much, always callin’ ‘em a f*g or gay, beatin’ ‘em for cryin’ or gettin’ scared… we’d had it, so we stole a drongo’s RV ‘n hit the road. After a spell, we met Johnny, ‘n it was jus’ about drivin’ after that. Car wasn’t exactly a beauty, but I took good care ‘a her ‘n I been keepin’ us outta trouble, too… until now,” Finally, the dam breaks, and tears begin flowing down Mundy’s face, the preteen letting out a weak sob as guilt fills his insides. “I-It was all my  _ damn  _ fault… if I hadn’t been such a bludger, those coppers never woulda seen us, ‘n I wouldn’tve swerved off the bloody fuckin’ road ‘n-”

“-Hey, easy there,” Engineer murmurs, coming to sit at the foot of Mundy’s bed. Without any hesitation, he hugs the boy, rubbing his back in soothing circles like Spy did earlier. “You’re safe ‘ere, alright? You don’t gotta take care ‘a everybody no more… you did such a good job, ‘n now ya deserve ta rest, okay? So stop beatin’ yerself up fer stuff you can’t control; you did everything you could, ‘n we’re proud ‘a you for that.”

Mundy just nods, holding onto Engineer for dear life. At the sound of their friend crying, Bonito and John come rushing over, standing on either side of the boy’s bed. “What are you crying for, Private Mundy?” John asks, looking ready to tear someone a new one. “Was it a commie? I bet it was, wasn’t it? Do you need me to beat them to death with their own organs for you, soldier?”

Mundy let’s out a wet laugh at that mental imagery. “No, it’s aight, Johnny… jus’ feelin’ a bit iffy, dat’s all.”

Bonito hums with worry, reaching a hand up to pat Mundy’s knee in understanding, which gets a small smile from the Australian. All the while, Spy watches from afar, trying to wrap his head around how on earth the adults in these kids’ lives let them all down. Mundy acts like he needs to take care of everyone else, and has a very obvious fear of his elders, suggesting he’s been abused by an authority figure in the past. Bonito is just as skittish as he is, if not more so, and can’t manage to talk to any adults, only managing small mumbles while they carry their Balloonicorn everywhere they go for comfort. John is by far the most concerning case of the trio, because not  _ only  _ does he have amnesia, but he’s been convinced by someone or something that he needs to become a child soldier and save the United States from an invisible threat. All in all, Spy knows that he has his work cut out for him when it comes to making sure these kids have a better upbringing here than they did one the road.

As depressing and worrisome as it is to think about though, Spy can’t help but feel grateful for his teammates being here to help him, as they’re all on-board for making sure these kids have a better life. Not that he should be all that surprised, as while they didn’t necessarily take Scout being here “well”, they’ve all done a pretty amazing job accommodating for the young boy, doing their best to keep him from seeing anything too awful and making sure not to talk about their jobs in his presence very often. RED base is still no place to raise four- or five, if you count Miss Pauling- children, but it’s either the mercenaries try their best, or they leave these kids to die, and none of them are willing to even  _ consider  _ the later option. Quietly, Spy sits back down in his chair, watching as Engineer, Bonito, and John comfort Mundy, up until they’re interrupted by Medic, who’s brought over a few lollipops for them. All three children smile when they see the candy, taking one each to suck on and distract themselves from how sad they were feeling earlier.

Spy smiles a little in turn, comforted by their happiness. They won’t stay happy forever, and he doubts everything will go according to plan, but with his teammates here to help, he likes to think these kids actually stand a chance at making it to eighteen years old alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s the end of this fic! I plan on doing more for this AU soon- like the RV trio’s backstory, which I’ve already written quite a bit of- but until then, I hope this was a good introduction to this AU's premise! Do you have any suggestions or ideas? Feel free to comment them down below, or hit me up on my Tumblr (supercasey), where I tag this AU as both “tf2 kid!scout au” and “tf2 kid scout au”! I’ve already got a few posts about this AU on there, so if you’re looking for a lil’ humor/more content, check it out! Have an awesome day, y’all! (Oh yeah, and more rambling):
> 
> 1\. The apple cutting scene was partially inspired by my own childhood love of apples. I feel a bit bad about it now, but I constantly badgered my parents to cut them for me when I was little, so when I was looking up cool ways to cut apples the other day and saw you could cut them in such interesting shapes, I knew I had to write Spy doing it; come on, we all know he'd do Extra shit like that!
> 
> 2\. Mundy makes me simultaneously so happy and so sad... tbh, I base a lot of his and Bonito's closeness on me and my big brother's relationship growing up. Not to get too tmi on main/share too much of my past, but the two of us were targeted by an abuser at a very young age, so as a result we ended up very protective of each other, and as adults we're still very close! I dunno, I also thought it would be an interesting approach to Sniper and Pyro, especially since I don't see much interaction between in the fandom.
> 
> 3\. I can't wait to write about all the kids interacting with each other away from their parents. I think after I finish Bonito, Mundy, and John's backstory fic, I'm gonna write one from Scout's POV as he hangs out with the other kids, and get his perspective on their behaviors and mannerisms. It's probably gonna be simultaneously very cute and very sad, as most things are in this AU, lol.
> 
> 4\. The Administrator's relationship with Miss Pauling in this AU is literally that B99 meme of "I've only had BLANK for two days, but if anything happened to them I'd kill everyone in this room and then myself." Spy and Scout are the same way, but Spy's a bit more affectionate with his kid in front of people.
> 
> 5\. Oh, and by the way, I did give in and buy a Spy Crab... it's red, and I have no self control.


End file.
